03 10AU Blink
by NewDrWhoFan
Summary: My take on "Blink" with Rose... 10Rose. Work in progress
1. Well Laid Plans

_The Series 3 AU with Rose continues! This is a sequel to my stories from "The Girl in the Stalking Spaceship", to "Doomsday Averted", all the way through the AU Series 3 up until "The Family of Blood"._

_Beta'd by **maven13 **and** SamiWami** (If any of my old betas are still interested in this Doctor Who stuff, lemme know and I'll forward my next chapters to you. Thanks!)_

_LOOK! I'm still alive, and I actually wrote something! I hope it's okay..._

_Disclaimer: Surprise, surprise, I don't own Doctor Who. Nor do I get anything from writing these stories - except wonderful, constructive reviews! Wink, wink; nudge, nudge ;)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Well Laid Plans<strong>

Rose woke with a start, her mattress bouncing crazily, and an even crazier grin on the face of the Time Lord in front of her - about six inches in front of her. "What?" she demanded, rolling onto her back. She'd tried to sound sleepy and stern, but she could hear the reluctant amusement in her own voice.

"All rested up, then?" the Doctor asked, head propped up on his hand as he lay on his side to face her, apparently oblivious to her righteous indignation.

Rose pushed herself up to a half-sitting position. The Doctor courteously swept her hair out of her face, but didn't give any sign of noticing the goose bumps that formed on Rose's arms at the gesture. She blinked a few times, then managed to tear her eyes away from the mischievous glint in his. "You've got your trainers on my duvet," she told him with as much grumpiness as she could muster.

He neither got up, nor kicked off the offending Converses. He just rolled back, hands now behind his head, letting one foot fall to the floor and crossing the other over his knee. "The TARDIS was monitoring your REM cycles," he told her, still smiling at her and ignoring her ignoring his original question.

It was then that Rose finally made out what the little voice in her head had been repeating for the last half a minute: "The Doctor's in your bed..." She blinked again, and swallowed, taking in the picture he made. He was lying in her bed in his shirtsleeves, pinstriped trousers, and trainers, just as comfortable as could be, his face all happy and relaxed, with - was that flour on his cheek?

Rose leaned over him to brush the substance off with her thumb, then rested her arm on his chest to examine it. She figured she could always claim she was half asleep if he questioned her, but for now she'd decided to just thoroughly enjoying his closeness and the feel of his heartsbeats. "S'what's this?" she asked him, scrunching up her eyes to focus, as if she weren't fully awake. It seemed more like confectioner's sugar, up close.

She let out a startled gasp as he wrapped an arm around her waist - when had he moved it? - and pulled her closer. "I made breakfast," he answered simply, as if her lying half on top of him was an everyday sort of occurrence. Maybe it could be, she thought. He'd been in an incredibly good mood ever since they'd left Tharnadur, and this cuddly sort of closeness seemed to go along with it.

Rose figured she must be more asleep than she'd thought, because she suddenly realized that she had neither replied to his breakfast comment, nor taken advantage of his proximity in any way. She shook her head, hoping to clear whatever must be fogging up her brain. Her hair fell in the Doctor's face as a result, and he spluttered and blew at the strands. "Sorry," she said, trying to flick her hair back without actually sitting up and moving away from him.

"Hmm," he replied with a smirk, brushing the hair back over her shoulder for her. Then he raised himself to gently kiss her lips. "I forgive you," he said, beaming at her as he let his head fall back to the bed.

Before Rose's brain could tell her body to return the gesture, the Doctor had flipped her over onto her pillow.

With another kiss - this one to her nose - he hopped off of the bed and stood, straightening his tie and making an attempt at blindly fixing his hair. "I'll put the coffee on, and just a few finishing touches. See you in a bit," he said, and practically bounced out of her bedroom.

Rose licked her lips as she lay, still a bit stunned. "Life with the Doctor," she said, grinning to herself.

* * *

><p>After her whirlwind of a wake-up, Rose washed and dressed then tracked the Doctor down in the kitchen. He was back in his full suit, and had their meal all prepared and served up on the table. "Smells delicious," she told him as he held her chair out for her at the table. "What's with the full English, then?" she asked, looking over the assortment of familiar breakfast items piled on the plates.<p>

"Why's there got to be a reason?" he asked, as he poured the coffee. "There is a reason," he immediately admitted, "but I don't need one just to make something you like."

"Alright," Rose allowed, "but if ya don't want me to ask, then there's gonna have to not be a reason at least once."

The Doctor sat heavily in his seat. "Touché. Now, eat up." He followed his own instruction, shoveling in at least three forkfuls before continuing. "We are in for a nice, peaceful day of fun and frivolity," he told her between bites. "The Relqine Protectorate has been at peace for one hundred years, exactly. Zog's moratorium on monarchy is about to be officially ended, and the hereditary king is due to be crowned by their version of a parliament at noon." He went on to describe the years of anticipation, the months of preparations, and the planned, weeks-long festivities.

"Zog, why's that familiar?" Rose asked. The Doctor gave a shrug and a poorly hidden grin as he continued to eat. She sighed, smiling, deciding to let him keep his secrets. It's not like she could pry anything out of him that he didn't want to share. "You been there before, then?" she asked, instead.

The Doctor shook his head then gulped down some coffee. "Here, not there," he corrected her. "We landed before you got up. And no, not just now," he told her. "Years and years later. But it's the start of their golden age. It's in all the history books."

Rose grinned as she scraped up the last of her breakfast. "So, we're goin' to see what really happened?"

"Rose, please." The Doctor sat back from his empty plate, looking mildly offended. "I've told you what happened. Fun and frivolity. Now, go get yourself changed while I clean up."

Whatever was really going on here, Rose could see it certainly had the Doctor excited. She saved her coffee from his clearing of the table, and headed straight to the wardrobe room.

She was definitely going to wear her running shoes.

* * *

><p>The Doctor quickly tossed the breakfast plates into the sink and headed for the console room. The TARDIS was in about as good a mood as he was, and she said she'd do the washing up. This time.<p>

Rose's engagement ring was burning a hole in his breast pocket, but the Doctor's mind was made up. Rose had asked for two weeks, and two weeks it would be. That left just eleven days, fourteen hours, and twenty-three minutes (and seventeen-point-two seconds, but who was counting?) until he could propose. And he was going to spend that time implementing the most ingenious and impressive courtship the universe had ever seen.

This wasn't just a matter of taking Rose to amazing places and events. That would just be showing off. No, he had a plan to make every stop significant and special to the two of them. Rose might not recognize it, and he hoped he could pull this off without her even realizing she was being wooed, but it would all have a meaning to him.

Take Zog, for instance. He had first thought of bringing Rose here while they were at Stonehenge. That they had ended up trying - and failing - to see Elvis and that Rose had gotten her face stolen instead wasn't the point. The point was that he had wanted to bring her here after they had accidentally gotten married and Rose had teasingly demanded a honeymoon. Their actual honeymoon was going to far surpass this, he'd make sure of it, but Zog should certainly suffice for a date.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors, just for a peek. He wanted to make absolutely sure they were at the right coordinates, and the console readout just wasn't always as reliable as he'd like. Fortunately, they were in perfect position, both temporally and spatially, and he closed the doors again, satisfied that Rose was going to love it.

As if on cue, he heard Rose's approaching footsteps, and the Doctor sprung around the console to meet her. She had changed into a lovely off-white, summery, knee-length dress with matching pumps. It would be perfect for the festivities on Zog, where most of the old pomp had been replaced by good, clean, sumptuous partying.

Rose gave a little half-twirl of her skirts, smiling at him, and the Doctor realized he'd been staring. "Perfect," he told her, extending a hand.

"Thanks," Rose said, accepting the hand and entwining their fingers with a grin.

The Doctor thought he could definitely get used to a permanent smile on his face, as he led her to the TARDIS' doors and opened them for a second time that morning.

* * *

><p>"Do ya ever get used to this?" Rose asked as she took in the purplish-tinged noon sky. "'Cause I don't ever want to," she added, squeezing the Doctor's hand.<p>

"You never would," he assured her.

She looked up at his fond smile, and shifted her grip to hold his arm as they began walking down the paved street. "Why's that?" Rose asked.

"Well," the Doctor replied, looking around them, "you're you. Even if it all looked like London, you'd still see something unique. Maybe just one person in a crowd, or a flower or a rock that caught your eye."

Rose bit her lip, a little embarrassed by his compliment. She decided to shift the focus, pleased as she was with his opinion of her. "An' there's always somethin' unexpected with you around," she observed. "So, c'mon," she wheedled, "when are we, really?"

"Right when we're supposed to be," he answered. "Don't you believe me?"

"We on Zog?" Rose asked.

"Are we on - Rose, I told you, it's the coronation of King Jesteen XXIII. That," he pointed to a large, white building a little ways up the hill they had begun climbing, "is the Relqine Palace. It's been the Congressional Seat for the past century, but the soon-to-be-king's got some lavish accommodations in there," he said as an aside. "That is a portrait of Jesteen," he said, indicating a large banner hanging from a building that might have been an inn. "And this," he pulled her close as a large group of pedestrians jostled them as they passed, "is a group of locals hurrying on their way to the coronation." He slipped his arm free from her grip to wrap it around her waist. "We are on Zog, and we are on time. The weather's pleasant, there are no wars about to break out, and we are going to a party." He glanced sidelong at her. "And don't sound so surprised."

Rose watched as the group ahead of them disappeared around the bend in the road, most of them dressed in attire similar to her own. For the first time that morning, she realized that they really were on their way to a party. The Doctor was taking her to an honest-to-goodness party, fun and frivolity and all that, and she was allowed to relax and enjoy it. The revelation actually brought her to a standstill, and consequently brought the Doctor along with her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, obviously concerned.

"I just - I guess I really am surprised," she admitted.

The Doctor's mouth dropped open a bit before he admonished her. "Rose Tyler. My driving is not that bad." Despite his apparently being right, she couldn't help but scoff at the claim. "It's not!" he defended.

"So, you were _aiming_ for Tharnadur five hundred years after the Family'd left," she said, smiling again.

The Doctor frowned, but she could tell he was at least a little amused. "They still remembered them," he said, trying to justify himself. "Genetic memory."

Rose was not about to let Mister Cardiff, not Venice off the hook that easily. "An' the banana grove on Villengard?" she challenged.

"We were _that_ close," he told her, holding his thumb and index finger apart - no, she was pretty sure they were together. "And it wasn't just me driving, if you'd care to recall," he added, eyes twinkling.

Ah, yes, she recalled his hands-on TARDIS-driving instruction... but still. "Spaceship crashin' into a sun."

"Distress call," he shot back. "Following on, might I remind you, from a perfectly-navigated trip back to a certain chippy in order to successfully close a circular paradox."

Okay, so he had done a rather spectacular job of landing them just at the right spot to steal his Ninth self a snog... and now he was grinning at her, probably guessing quite accurately that she was thinking of their kiss, and leaning in just so, giving her the perfect opportunity for a little reenactment...

For the briefest moment, she didn't know why, but she suddenly thought of John Smith. The Doctor as John Smith, about to try and kiss her for the supposedly first time...

Rose blinked and it was gone, and she found herself right back in their little tete-a-tete. "So, 's a matter of motivation?" she asked, smacking the Doctor in the face with the proverbially turned tables. Rose almost regretted her comeback. As endearing as his goldfish look was, it was much less kissable than most of his other faces.

He expertly avoided the issue, and only rarely at a loss for words asked, "Why the heels, then, if you were planning on running?"

"They're my running heels," she answered simply. "From the thirty-somethingth century? Thirty-fourth, I think." She was pretty sure that was right.

He was pouting. "Still, then why'd you bother with the dress at all, if you didn't think I could possibly get us here?" he asked.

Rose hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, and still hoped she hadn't. She gave him a small nudge and a grin to try and lighten things up. "'S half the fun," she told him. "Like meetin' Queen Victoria in dungarees. Why, don't ya like it?" She gave her dress a little twirl.

"Don't change the subject. I'm trying to be mad at you," he grumbled, watching her skirts settle. Which, of course, told Rose that he was most certainly failing at the alleged attempt.

"You do like it," she observed with a smile and stepped closer to him.

"Of course I do," he said, rolling his eyes as he took her hands. "But it would be much more appropriate at the coronation in the Grand Hall," he looked off in the direction of the palace, attempting to tug her into motion, "for which - by some freak accident, it seems - we have arrived precisely on time and in the ideal location."

Rose feigned reluctance as the Doctor began walking backwards, pulling her along the road. Now that she'd gotten her head around it, she was really looking forward to a peaceful, alien party.

"There'll be dancing," the Doctor sing-songed cajolingly.

Rose raised her eyebrow as if unconvinced, even though her heart did a little flip.

"Even... chips," he drawled.

"They've really got chips?" she asked.

"Some... form of chips. Yeah, of course they have chips," he insisted.

She pursed her lips. "It has been a while," she allowed.

"That's my Rose," the Doctor said happily, pulling her once again into step beside him.

"Yeah, alright," Rose smiled back at him, "but if the chips are no good, it's twenty-first century London, next stop."

"Agreed."

* * *

><p>"This... is good!" Rose panted as they ran through the trees, taking a short cut back to the TARDIS. "I was thinkin'... between breakfast.. an' nice, peaceful trips... I'd haveta start exercisin' or somethin'."<p>

"Har, har," the Doctor replied, pulling her along behind him as he picked out their path.

"I mean, you were right... about Zog," she admitted. "No wars, no... secret plots or... anythin' to prove... the hist'ry books wrong."

The Doctor shot her a nasty look, knowing exactly where she was going with this.

"Just some stupid rule... 'bout spittin' out a mouthful of... those blue chips things... all over... Princess Cartara's shoes."

"I have a very developed sense of taste," he defended, looking studiously ahead as they ran.

"Not so much smell, though," Rose answered. "I told ya... they were off."

Rose glanced back at another shout from the guards, just as they broke out of the trees. They ran quickly across the road and crashed against the TARDIS. The Doctor opened the doors in just the nick of time, and they closed the doors together, catching a glimpse of one of the guards raising his weapon to aim.

The Doctor looked Rose over as she leaned against the door catching her breath. "Alright?" he asked.

"Not even... a twisted ankle," she answered, pointing her toe to show off her handy-dandy running pumps. She really loved these shoes.

"Excellent, so..." the Doctor clapped his hands and hopped to the console. "Enough of Zog. Next stop, as promised, London..." He began the dematerialization sequence, then began inputting coordinates. "Oh, let's make it Saturday the 2nd of June, 2007?"

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><p><em>That is to say, next stop, "Blink" as you've never seen it before!<em>

_To be continued..._


	2. Don't Leave Home Without It

_First off, **VeronicaD13**? Get outta my head, alright? Seriously, your review just about condensed my notes for points of concern for the episode ;) Thanks!_

_And secondly, on with the show..._

_Beta'd by **SamiWami **and** maven13**._

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Don't Leave Home Without It<strong>

Rose left the final navigating to the Doctor, while she just held onto the console for dear life. She let out a small scream as the TARDIS dipped in a half-second free-fall, then was thrown back as the ship landed.

The Doctor scrambled up from his own place on the floor to set the handbrake.

Rose was back at his side by the time he'd made it around to the scanner. She still couldn't make heads or tails out of the Gallifreyan symbols, but she recognized the Doctor's furrowed brow. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it, shaking his head. "No," he said, as if to himself. "No, chips. I promised you chips," he said, looking over at Rose. "We'll get chips, first."

"Why?" she asked, wondering what had him so concerned. "What is it?"

"It's nothing... much. Just a blip," he said lightly, but his gaze kept traveling back to the scanner, even as he was trying to shoo her towards the ramp.

"Doctor..." Rose prompted, managing to remain stubbornly in place.

He sighed, and waved a hand dismissively towards the readout. "It's a timey... wimey... thing that shouldn't be there. Probably isn't, even."

Rose leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, surprising him since he had gone back to staring at the screen. "The chips can wait," she told him.

"You sure?" he asked.

Rose laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure," she said, wondering why he was trying to ignore whatever it was that had piqued his interest. "When have we ever stuck to the plan?"

The Doctor smiled at her, then moved to pull up a section of grating on the far side of the console. "Fifteen minutes," he said. "Go grab yourself a snack, while I whip us up a tracking device."

* * *

><p>"Perfect timing," the Doctor said thirteen minutes later when he looked up to see Rose walking back into the console room.<p>

"Actually, I'm early," she observed.

"Yes, which is perfect," he retorted, "because you can help me with this." He beckoned her over to where he was seated on the floor, and held out a magnifying glass.

"What is that?" Rose asked.

The Doctor looked at his own extended hand. "A magnifying glass," he said, slowly.

She took the instrument from him, and used it to gesture towards the nearly completed device he had mostly assembled on his lap.

"Ah," the Doctor corrected himself. "We've materialized about two hundred yards from the anomoly, but I didn't want to move the TARDIS any closer. This," he said, "will help us find the source, or at least pinpoint the location."

"Of the timey-wimey-ness."

"Exactly!" the Doctor said happily, patting the device. "My timey-wimey detector." He picked up the trans-phasal modulator from the floor beside him, and carefully extracted the main crystal. "But, it's not quite done," he said to Rose. "And I could really use some help with getting this positioned just right."

She knelt down next to him, and he adjusted her arm so that she was holding the magnifying glass over the detector just where he needed it. "Perfect," he said, and picked up the sonic screwdriver from where it lay on the grating on his other side. Ordinarily, he'd be doing this sort of work at his desk, but the components he needed had all been here in the console room, and it was really just this last part that needed a delicate touch...

"This gonna take long?" Rose asked.

"Not at all," he said, even as he screwed the crystal into position. "Done!" he exclaimed, and snapped the cover on as he jumped to his feet. "Trade?" he asked, holding out his hand for the magnifying glass and depositing the detector in Rose's arms. He tossed the glass in under the grating, kicked a few cannibalized contraptions in with it, and closed the floor. "Come on then," he said, helping Rose up and relieving her of the device. "Let's go make this detour worthwhile, shall we?"

It had better be worth it, he thought. If his curiosity, and Rose's, too, he supposed, got in the way of his plans to court her, he was going to be kicking himself.

* * *

><p>Rose closed the TARDIS doors while the Doctor fiddled with the timey-wimey detector. It looked to her like some sort of hand-held hoover with fairy lights and a radar screen. "So, how's that work?" She asked.<p>

The torrent of techno-babble that came from the Doctor's mouth left Rose stunned. "Rose, you alright?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head. "All I got out of that was something about particles, and artron energy, and it bleeps at you when you're close. Maybe I'll ask again when we're not in the middle of this and you can slow down to a mile a minute."

"Sorry," he said, appearing genuinely contrite. He clicked the sonic screwdriver into a receptacle on the side of the timey-wimey detector, then put on some headphones that were wired to the device.

"Are those my headphones?" Rose asked, realizing that they most certainly were.

"Shh," the Doctor hushed her. "Can't here the bleeps," he added, twiddling a dial.

Rose looked around while the Doctor fiddled. They were just outside of a gated estate. "Wester Drumlins," the sign read. The house looked well and truly abandoned - as did the car next to the TARDIS.

She walked over to the vehicle parked on the grass. Its engine was running, but she couldn't see anyone inside. "Hello?" she called as she approached, but as she looked in the open windows, she could tell that it really was empty. "Odd," she said to herself.

"It's definitely in there," the Doctor said, waving the detector from side to side towards the house. "Shall we?" he asked with a grin towards Rose.

"'S what we're here for," she answered, returning to the gate. She should tell him sometime, she thought. Let him know that she really did love this sort of thing just as much as seeing the worlds he picks out for her. As eager as he was to solve this little mystery, he'd been strangely reluctant to pursue it in the beginning.

The Doctor disengaged the sonic from the detector, and opened the large padlock on the gate. Closing the gate behind them, he reinserted the sonic and led the way towards the main building.

"Whaddya think it is?" Rose asked in a hushed voice.

"There's trace artron energy," he answered just as quietly. "Could be a time-traveler, could be where someone travelled from, could be any number of things." He glanced away from the readings on the device to give Rose a wink. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

><p>"Sounds like it's upstairs," the Doctor observed, resuming his detecting after having sonic'ed the front door. He still couldn't quite make sense out of the readings he was getting, but the bleeps were definitely closer together when he pointed the sensor up.<p>

Their own footsteps were the only sounds in the house as they climbed the staircase. He felt Rose's pulse rate increase as they reached the landing, and followed the detector's signals to the room at the end of the upstairs hall.

The door was ajar, so he toed it open.

Inside were three stone statues.

"Angels?" whispered Rose.

"'Weeping Angels, hiding their shame eternally'..." The quote sprang instantly to mind at the sight of the statues, but there was something else in the back of the Doctor's mind that was trying to work its way to the forefront...

"Is this it?" Rose asked, whispering.

The Doctor scanned the three - no, four, he now saw - statues with the detector. "Definitely more to you than meets the eye," he said to the statues.

"They look like stone," Rose observed.

"It's... weird," he admitted. "They are stone, but look at these readings. There's the artron energy, but they haven't been through the Vortex." He pulled the sonic free of the detector and scanned them with it on a different setting. He had an idea. "Hold this for a minute?" he asked Rose, handing off the detector.

"Got it," she said, taking it from him and tucking it under her arm.

He pocketed the sonic and pulled out his TARDIS key and a length of string. He quickly tied the key onto a loop which he then held out in front of him on the tip of a pencil. "Not nearly as impressive, but let's see what it does," he told her, taking her free hand and extending the pencil towards one of the statues.

The key twitched.

"So, not just stone," Rose said.

The Doctor looked closely at the Angel in front of him. "Have we met?" he asked, trying to sort through his memory. "Because you seem awfully fam-" Ah.

"Doctor?" Rose asked as he began backing her out of the room.

"Just keep away from them, Rose." He had seen the statues before. Just for a moment, in a photograph in an envelope that he'd stashed away without investigating. "Sally Sparrow," he said. "That's how I know you. Nineteen Six-"

* * *

><p>"-Ty Nine."<p>

In a flash, the statues had vanished together with the old house, and had been replaced by a London street complete with a double-decker bus heading straight towards the Doctor and Rose.

The Doctor could tell Rose was still dazed by their sudden transportation, but thanks to his faster recovery he was able to move her quickly and safely to the pavement.

As the bus rolled by, the Doctor looked back at the crunching, snapping sound coming from beneath its tires.

"What was that?" Rose asked groggily.

"My timey-wimey detector!" he answered, realizing Rose must have dropped it in the street. He quickly seated her on a nearby bench and darted in after the bus to try and salvage some of the pieces, ignoring the honks of protest from the oncoming cars.

"Doctor, what just happened?" Rose asked as he stepped back out of the street with a woefully small percentage of the device in his hands.

Just as he was about to answer, the Doctor looked at the pencil in his hand. He shifted the wreckage of the detector into one arm while he patted down his pockets. "My key," he said distractedly. "Where's my TARDIS key?" he asked, looking around on the pavement. "In the street?" He didn't see it there, either.

"Doctor?" Rose asked again.

"No. Please, don't let them have it," he said, hoping against hope.

"What's goin' on, Doctor?" Rose asked, calling him back to himself.

The full weight of their dilemma settled in the pit of the Doctor's stomach as he answered lightly, "A bit of time travel without a capsule."

"Without a capsule," Rose repeated. "Without... without the TARDIS?"

He nodded. Without the TARDIS, and he may have just handed the Angels the means to take the TARDIS for their own.

"How? Where is she?" Rose asked. "I mean, when are we? It's London, but we've gone back, yeah?" she asked, looking around.

"It was the Angels, whatever they are," he told her. His plans had certainly been derailed on this little side trip. He didn't need the sixties-era clothing on the passersby or the old style double-decker to know exactly what year it was. "And we're in 1969."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. What Went Around Comes Around

_Thanks to **Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley** for providing much-needed perspective :)_

_Beta'd by **SamiWami** and** maven13**. I love my betas!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – What Went Around Comes Around<strong>

Rose glanced away from the Doctor's worried face to take in their surroundings. It was weird. It could have been the street she'd gone to work on every day before she'd met the Doctor, but she'd never heard of half the shops, the cars and buses were all monstrous gas-guzzlers, and there was nothing retro about the bell-bottoms and other fashions displayed on the pedestrians. "I really should've let us go for chips, first," she said at last.

Their eyes met again and the Doctor's expression seemed to clear. They shared something of a nervous laugh before he sat himself next to her on the bench. "Ah, well," he nudged her shoulder, "stuck with you? It's not so bad."

"Thanks," Rose answered with a smile, straightening the skirt of her dress. "But I'd rather we didn't haveta keep havin' this conversation."

The Doctor grinned at her then, and began shifting the former timey-wimey detector in his arms, searching his coat pockets. "If I'm right," he said, up to his armpit in an interior pocket of his overcoat, "this is all just part of the plan." He withdrew a purple folder with a shout of triumph. "Thank you, Sally Sparrow!"

"You said that name before," Rose observed as he dumped the detector into the pocket from which he'd just pulled the folder. "Who's she?"

"Remember the hatching? London, 2008, with Martha?" the Doctor asked.

Oh, Rose remembered. She doubted she'd ever forget. Seeing the Doctor knocked unconscious was bad enough, but... "Ya mean when Martha and I had to drag you back to the TARDIS? In our heels and skirts with you all covered in rotten dragon egg? That hatchin'?"

"Sorry?" the Doctor said in a small voice.

She kissed his cheek. "I forgive you," she said.

"But yes," the Doctor went on in a much more cheerful tone of voice, "Sally Sparrow, she's the one who held us up when we first got out of the cab," he explained. "Said I'd need this when I got stuck in 1969, and to make sure I had it with me."

"So, we _are_ stuck." Rose sighed, and then really looked at the folder, noticing a photograph through the transparent cover. "Is that - that's one of the Angels," she said, "the same as the Angels in that room."

The Doctor nodded. "Took me too long to place them," he said thoughtfully. "I knew they looked familiar, but I was trying to remember when I'd met them before. Turns out I never had. I didn't think of this 'til it was too late, obviously."

"Obviously," Rose agreed. "What else is in the folder?" she asked. "How do we get back to the TARDIS?"

"No idea!" the Doctor said cheerfully. "Never opened it. Wasn't sure I should," he added. "From the way Ms. Sparrow was talking, it sounded like a circular paradox. And with those," he said knowingly, "the less you know, the safer things usually are all around." Then he shrugged. "And I sort of forgot about it after the dragons."

"But we can open it now, right?" Rose asked. "If she said you were gonna need it, now's what she gave it to you for."

"I do believe you're right," the Doctor told her. He looked around at the nearby shops then stood up from the bench. "It's not quite the twenty-first century," he told her, "but how 'bout those chips?"

Rose grinned as he offered her a hand up. "Better early than never?"

* * *

><p>It took the Doctor some more searching of his various pockets, but he eventually pulled out a fiver from 1968. It was tucked within a wad of currency from 1970 that he hadn't even realized he still possessed. Fortunately, it was enough to get fish, chips and change (which is more than could have been said for 2007), and he and Rose brought their dinner to a table by the front window of the chippy.<p>

"Here goes," the Doctor said, opening the purple folder and shaking the contents out onto the table.

Amongst the papers, photographs and envelopes was a small object that clinked onto the plastic surface.

"My TARDIS key!" the Doctor realized, picking up the key, still threaded onto the string he had used at the house. "Well that's a load off my mind, I'll tell you. I was afraid the Angels might've gotten it."

"How'd it get in there?" Rose gasped.

"Sally Sparrow," the Doctor told her, returning the key to its rightful pocket. "Definitely a circular paradox," he said as they began sorting through the documents between bites of their dinner.

Rose took the photographs he passed to her, arranging them one-handed on the table in front of her. "Look at this," she said ten minutes into their task, picking one of them up to show him.

It looked to the Doctor like graffiti under wallpaper. Wallpaper from - "Wester Drumlins," he said after he swallowed his last bite of dinner.

"That's what it says," Rose told him, and flipped the photo around to show him the note scrawled on the back. "Eighth of June 2007."

"Six days after we were there," the Doctor calculated. "Except I didn't notice that then, did you?"

"No," Rose admitted, "but look at the signature. 'Love from the Doctor, 1969.'"

"Add that to our 'to do' list, then," he said, and put the photo on top of the pile of papers to his right.

"'To do'?" asked Rose.

"Ye-ah," the Doctor drawled, looking at the various items on their table, "it seems like we've got our work cut out for us to complete the paradox."

"Complete how? To get the TARDIS back?" she asked.

"That's the hope," he answered. "At first blush, it looks like Sally Sparrow was able to compile this folder thanks to clues we left for her in 1969. And we were - or will be - able to do all that because of the folder she gave me. We just follow the directions to make sure everything happens the way it happened."

Rose nodded. "So, what's the first step?"

The Doctor gestured at the table. "This."

"Right," she said, returning the photograph to its place.

Minutes ticked agonizingly slowly by while the Doctor reworked his hypotheses with each new document he came across. Thus far, he had narrowed the probabilities to, oh, about three dozen or so.

He read through a letter from Katherine Wainwright, then handed it to Rose. It told him just a little bit more about the Angels, but didn't give him any insight into their current paradoxical predicament.

The Doctor picked up a transcript next, and read it twice over. "Of course," he muttered, wondering why he hadn't pieced it together earlier. "We have been lucky."

"How's that?" Rose asked, looking up distractedly from the letter she'd been reading.

"Very... very lucky." The Doctor repeated, pointing to the transcript in his hand. "They're the Lonely Assassins. Not fairy tales, not two different legends. They're real and they are one in the same."

"What are? The Angels?" asked Rose.

"The Weeping Angels... they're sort of a Time Lord fable," he told her. "They were supposed to be from way back, long before Rassilon even, nearly as old as the universe, they said. But the Lonely Assassins were more of a nightmare. They feed off of the potential energy of their victims' lives. That's why they sent us back in time. Trying to eat up all of the abstract might-have-beens. Unfortunately for them, we probably didn't give them much of a meal, being time-travelers and all. But oh, am I glad that I parked where I did. If they had gotten the TARDIS..." he shuddered.

"What?" Rose prompted.

"They could have wreaked some real havoc," he told her. "Wiped out a star, maybe. Or several."

"Good thing you've got your key back, then," she replied. She suddenly put her hand to her chest, then let out a breath. "'Kay," she said, "still got mine, too."

The transcript went on the "to do" pile, and the Doctor picked up the next stapled packet of papers. It proved just as fascinating. "'The Mysterious DI Shipton'," he read aloud.

"Who's that?" asked Rose.

"'Born 8 October 1986, Died 9 June 2007, age... 59.'"

"Alright, I can add," Rose said, "an' that's not right."

The Doctor scanned through what seemed to be the detective inspector's personal timeline. "Ah," he said when he reached 2005. "15 July 2005, Assigned to, drum roll please, Wester Drumlins disappearances... 9 June 2007, Escorted Sally Sparrow to the Wester Drumlins impound... 21 March 1969, Owned a flat at a Kensington address for five years... then all the way back through to 9 June 2007, Dies in hospital." The man had had to live his way back to 2007, the Doctor thought gloomily, not at all encouraged.

Rose's mouth was slightly open as she took in what he had read to her. Then she blinked. "March of '69? When is it now? Can we look him up?"

"Sunday the 13th of April, at 4:47 in the afternoon," the Doctor answered, pausing to draw a hand over his face. They had been at this less than half an hour, but it was draining, trying to piece together the full picture of the paradox(es) from this limited supply of information. He flipped the page to see if Rose's idea was a safe one. "It seems like we do run into him," he said, reading over the summary of Billy Shipton's second meeting with Sally Sparrow in 2007. "But that's odd..." he trailed off, double-checking his mental math. "For us to have been sent back to the same year and city, if the Angels work the way I'm thinking they work, it had to be the same Angel," he told Rose. "But we were only sent back thirty-eight years, one month, nineteen days, eighteen hours -"

"Doctor..." Rose said, warningly.

"Right. Sorry. But this makes it sound like DI Shipton arrived..." he glanced up at Rose, "... almost a month before we got here, even though he doesn't meet the Angels until a week after us."

"So?" Rose prompted.

"So," the Doctor said, mulling it over then nodding his head, "it's still worth checking out, but it might turn out to be part of a larger paradox."

"Swell," Rose answered, popping the last of her chips into her mouth and picking up a napkin. "Anythin' about when we get the TARDIS back?"

The Doctor didn't exactly want to speak aloud the point that had him the most concerned. From what he could tell, nothing here actually confirmed they _would_ get the TARDIS back. "More 'how' than 'when'," he said vaguely, having finished reading the last of Sally Sparrow's notes. "She's not sent back by an Angel, so it's a matter of the programming on the control disk that'll determine when and where we find her. Still, it looks like we'll be here a little while." He braced himself and then broke the news. "You're gonna need a job."

"Funny," Rose said without missing a beat, "sounded like you said 'you'. But you must've said 'we'."

"We're gonna need more money than a few coins in change," he explained, avoiding her eyes.

"An' you've got two hands," she countered. "You gettin' a job, too?"

"I've got other things to do to make this all work." He picked through the papers again to prove his point. "I'm gonna have to rebuild the timey-wimey detector for one. Program a hologram and activation protocol for the TARDIS, create a control disk..." he risked a glance back at Rose, whose narrowed eyes told him she wasn't quite buying it. "That's all going to take time and money." He grinned at her. "Division of labor: my time, your money," he said, trying for humor. He ploughed on at the startled look Rose gave him. "Besides," he said, showing her a line in the transcript, "it says here you're working in a shop, and we've got to complete the paradox according to the directions or risk expanding it even further."

Rose took the transcript and read her line aloud. "'We're stuck. "Anywhere in the universe", he said. "Travels in time", he said. Now I'm back workin' in a shop to support us!'" She scanned the page, then held the stack out to the Doctor accusingly. "I don't see where it says what you're doin'," she told him. "You could've gotten a job and just not complained..." she trailed off and looked at him, as if appraising him. "Nope, you're right," she said, nodding. "No way you'd've been workin' a nine-to-five and not been goin' on and on about it."

The Doctor snatched the transcript back, feigning insult. She was, after all, spot on. But he wasn't about to argue the point if it let him off the hook - er, left him free to work on his side of things.

Rose sank her head onto her hand. "Where'm I gonna find a job?" she asked, although it seemed she was more musing to herself than asking the Doctor's advice. "Think they're hirin' here?"

Unable to meet her despondent gaze, he looked back out through the window - and just narrowly managed not to laugh out loud.

"What?" Rose asked.

He nodded across the street over her shoulder at the building that had just caught his eye.

Rose twisted around to follow his line of sight. "You're kiddin' me. Henrik's?" she exclaimed, turning back to face him.

"Help wanted, too."

She looked again, then slumped in her seat. "A'right, I'll do it," she assented. "But don't go blowin' it up yet. One paradox at a time, yeah?"

The Doctor beamed at her, and managed to elicit a smile from her in return. "Agreed."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_Next chapter'll explain Billy a bit more (no, he didn't actually get sent back a month before they arrived)._

_Stay tuned; reality's about to really begin setting in, soon :)_

_PS - If you've ever had questions about "Blink", please send them my way. I want to make sure I cover all applicable bases._

_PPS - If you missed the story of the above-mentioned dragon-hatching, it's in Chapter 8 of my Gridlock AU._


	4. A Walk in the Park

_Sorry if you're waiting anxiously for Billy; this chapter got so long that it pushed his explanation into Chapter 5..._

_Beta'd by _**_SamiWami_**_._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 - A Walk in the Park<strong>

"See you tomorrow, then?"

Rose shook off the déjà vu and gave her winningest smile. "Bright 'n early." For the second time in her life, she turned and left the manager's office, a proud new hire at Henriks department store.

Alright, maybe not so much "proud" as "desperate and strangely fortunate". It had occurred to her that a Friday payday wasn't going to do them much good if the Doctor's spare change was all they had to get them through the week. But she knew there was no way she was going to get a cash advance on day one, not just having walked in off of the street.

Luckily for her, she'd had some experience with just that sort of situation at Henrik's. A girl just about a year younger than Rose had shown up flat broke, fresh from a summer with the Peace Corps, with just the clothes on her back and the promise of a couch in her cousin's flat. She'd managed to finagle herself pro-rated store credit against her first paycheck, starting after her first day.

The manager here in 1969 had at first looked at Rose like she was crazy for suggesting such a concept. But then he'd given Rose another once-over, said she could use some outfits closer to what they had on the sales floor, and agreed to the arrangement.

As she headed out of the store past the racks of women's spring fashions, Rose wished they could have started her today - even if it was already after five o'clock. It hadn't bothered her too much when they'd first been sent back, but she was in no way dressed for an April evening in London. She shivered before she even opened the door, catching sight of the Doctor, his coat billowing out behind him in the stiff breeze.

As it was, however, she didn't even know what they were going to do about food, never mind keeping warm.

She stepped out onto the pavement, giving him a cheery thumbs-up when he looked up at her from the papers he'd been re-reading.

"You got the job?" he asked, enthusiastically.

"Don't sound so surprised," she teased.

Rose was fully expecting a celebratory hug after he had returned the now-familiar purple folder to his pocket, but he slipped right past her and into Henrik's. She stood, bewildered, for a moment, until he reappeared in the display window, snatching up the "Help Wanted" sign.

Rose just shook her head as she waited for him to join her.

He jogged through the doors and handed the sign to her. "That's yours, I believe," he said, then took her free hand and began leading her down the street.

"D'ya even know if they were only lookin' for just one person?" Rose asked as they walked.

"It's tradition," he replied. "You get the job, you take down the sign. I saw it in a movie, once. I think."

Rose folded up the sign and stuck it into his outer coat pocket. Then, instead of retaking his hand, she huddled around his arm. They probably had less than a few hours of daylight left, and the long shadows did nothing to keep her mind off of the increasing bite of the wind. "Where we headed?" she asked in an attempt to distract herself from the falling temperature as they crossed a street. She knew the Knightsbridge underground was less than a quarter of a mile away, but she wasn't yet to the point of suggesting they spend their money on that, nor even on a bus - but it depended on how far the Doctor expected her to walk.

"Kensington," he answered. "To meet Detective Inspector Shipton."

Rose glanced up at him as they walked, noting the decidedly doubtful tone of voice. "You don't sound too sure of that," she said.

The Doctor bobbed his head as if weighing the options. "Well, I'm not," he admitted after a moment. "We've got his address, or what's supposed to be his address since March -"

"And it's April, now," Rose put in.

"And it's April, now," he allowed, "but I really don't think the Angels work that way. Maybe... the records were wrong. Maybe..."

He trailed off, so Rose spoke up, hopefully. "Maybe... he doesn't buy the flat 'til after we find the TARDIS, and we bring him back to March so he can do it?"

The Doctor seemed a little worried when he first looked at her, but then a smile slowly grew. "Maybe," he agreed. "Or, maybe he'll be there when we get there, after all," he added, with a shrug and a grin. "Only one place to find out, really."

"Kensington," Rose ventured.

"Precisely," the Doctor answered.

They walked on in silence for only a couple minutes, Rose watching bus after relatively warm bus pass on the busy street. However, before she could even ask exactly how much change they had to spare, the Doctor brought them up short at an intersection.

Rose knew exactly what to expect from the look on his face, and wasn't the least surprised when he slipped his hand into hers with a "Run!"

The adrenaline really kicked in when she realized they were darting across the road against the light. However, the Doctor - being the Doctor - had timed it perfectly. Cars were passing in front of and behind them, but they reached the other side unscathed, and continued running right into Hyde Park.

It was only when they slowed back to a walk that Rose realized she was laughing out loud along with the Doctor. "You're insane, you know," she told him conversationally.

"Never claimed otherwise," he said proudly, grinning down at her.

As they walked, Rose looked around, breathing deeply. "Was always so easy to forget this place was here," she observed, taking in the rows of trees that almost completely blocked the traffic on the street beyond from sight. "Right in the middle of the city, I was always just worried about gettin' back to work or headin' home."

"Never any time to stop and smell the... flowers?" the Doctor asked.

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. She'd heard the pause.

"I was gonna say, "flowers," really, I was," he defended. Then he looked ahead and exclaimed, "Perfect!"

"What's perfect?" Rose asked, allowing him the distraction. She looked down the path. "The stand?"

The Doctor, meanwhile, was digging in his pocket again. When he produced a small handful of coins, he announced, "Just enough for an ice lolly!"

"It's gotta be fifteen degrees out!" Rose countered, momentarily coming to a standstill.

The Doctor turned to her and gently gripped her bare arms. "You're still cold?" he asked, concerned.

"Tryin' not to think about it, but yeah," she answered, punctuated by a small gust of wind.

He still had his hands on her arms, and was now lightly rubbing them. "That little jog was supposed to warm you up." He sounded disappointed, as if their dash across the street had really been all for her benefit.

"Well, not enough for a lolly," Rose told him. "An' I'd rather not run all the way to Kensington."

"Alright," the Doctor said, then tugged her on down the path at a quicker pace than before. He let her go as they approached the stand and took off his overcoat, handing it to her. However, he then continued to remove his suit jacket as well, and settled that over her shoulders. "Better?" he asked, retrieving his overcoat and putting it on over his dress shirt.

Rose was surprised by the gesture, but recovered enough to answer. "Yeah, thanks."

He reached for her, cupping her jaw. Rose flushed at the sudden contact and closeness, rather than merely the warmth of the jacket. The Doctor didn't seem to understand that, though. "Warmer already," he observed casually, as if reading a thermometer. "Excellent. Now, can I get a lolly?" he asked.

She laughed, mentally telling herself to get a grip on her reactions to him. If she wasn't careful, he'd realize that not only did she love him, but she also was completely, head-over-heels in love with him. "Y'know, fine," she said aloud. "You wanna freeze and starve, spendin' that last bit on an ice lolly, you be my guest."

The Doctor took that as all the permission he needed and immediately turned to purchase his confection.

* * *

><p>The Doctor had no intention of letting Rose starve or freeze just for the sake of his sweet tooth, but trying to think over all of the angles of their paradoxical predicament was giving even him a headache. The lollies, it happened, had just the right ingredients (very similar to jelly babies, actually) to help stave off the Time Lord equivalent of a migraine.<p>

As he approached the stand, however, he noticed the vendor was eating a packet of hot chestnuts, of all things. "But it says 'ice lollies' on the sign," the Doctor whined by way of greeting.

"Just changed it yesterday," the vendor replied. "Didn't expect such a cold snap today. I've got the lollies here, though."

"No, I'd rather the chestnuts, if they're for sale," the Doctor heard himself say. There wasn't any real thought required. He could endure the discomfort more easily than Rose (and more readily, too). Besides, they couldn't possibly starve to death or regenerate from mental meltdown that afternoon. There was still too much work that they will have done to save Sally Sparrow.

The Doctor handed over the requisite coins and the vendor supplied the steaming hot packet of chestnuts. "Y'know, I'm not gonna sell any more of these today," the vendor told him, nodding to the freezer chest; evidently, the Doctor had been staring. "You can have one for what you've got left."

The Doctor beamed at the man, already feeling his headache begin to dissipate. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, happily dumping the few remaining coins into the vendor's outstretched hand.

He was already halfway done with the ice lolly by the time he had walked the few steps back to Rose.

"Fankth," he garbled around his mouthful. "Really needed this." He offered her his elbow, and they continued walking along the edge of the park.

"I'll never understand you," she told him, but there was a small smile on her face.

He decided to try and see if he could widen that smile. "Wouldn't expect you to," he agreed. "Too much mystery, and good looks, and brilliance, and thoughtfulness rolled into one package," he said, revealing the chestnuts.

She immediately dropped his arm in favor of gratefully devouring the peace offering.

"You're welcome," the Doctor said tossing the bare ice lolly stick into a bin as they passed.

"Fankth," Rose belatedly garbled at him. "Theethe're -" she swallowed, "they're perfect."

* * *

><p>Rose had completely forgiven the Doctor for his ice lolly craving before she had even finished the chestnuts. Between those and his jacket, she was actually quite comfortable, and enjoying their little stroll through Kensington Gardens. She'd even maneuvered the packet so that she could retake his elbow.<p>

The Doctor had made a point to stop and smell various flowers along the Flower Walk, comparing them to other varieties he - or sometimes they - had seen on other worlds.

Which reminded Rose, she still hadn't gotten a straight answer, "Doctor, when's it say we get the TARDIS back?"

"When's what say?" he asked, leaving her side to dart over to a bunch of orange almost-tulips.

"The folder," she told him. "When does it say we'll see her again?" He was poking and prodding the flowers, unmistakable signs of delay. "Doctor?"

He put his hands in his trouser pockets before turning to answer. "Well, there're quite a few things I've got to figure out, before that can happen," he told her, not quite meeting her eyes. "There are things in the folder I don't understand yet, like why an Angel was trying to hit Sally Sparrow with a stone," he took her hand and started them walking again, "how Billy Shipton got sent back to London before us - if, indeed, he did. I don't even know how I'm going to make the control disk that will bring the TARDIS to us. And I've somehow got to rebuild the timey-wimey detector so that we know when she does get here."

He still hadn't answered her question, and she knew he knew it. "It doesn't say, does it?"

He hesitated, then looked at her. "No," he admitted. "All Sally Sparrow knew was that the TARDIS dematerialized. She didn't know when or where it went."

"Oh."

"That's it? 'Oh'?" he asked, and it was his turn to bring them to a halt.

"Well, you'd said we were stuck when we first got here," Rose told him. "I just got my hopes up when I saw your TARDIS key in the folder."

"Yeah, me, too," he said quietly, looking at his feet.

"So, worst case, what? We wait a year?" she asked. The Doctor looked up at her, evidently not following. "You said that money was from 1970, right?"

"Yeah?"

"So, if you're here in the seventies," Rose reasoned, "we just wait to find you then. Your old TARDIS could find ours for us, couldn't she?"

He gave her that look, then; the one that both embarrassed her and filled her with pride; the one that was often accompanied by some undeserved declaration of her brilliance or whatnot.

She looked away, and realized where they were. "Palace Gate, right?" she asked, tugging him towards the park exit.

She was grateful that he didn't bother to say anything, either to praise her or to shatter her conjecture. He simply brought their joined hands to his lips for a brief kiss, then followed her lead out towards the street.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Message for You, Sir

_This chapter is dedicated to **AliceElizabeth1**. Y'all don't know how close I just came to losing all of my Series 3 notes - AGAIN! If it hadn't been for her favorite-ing "Gridlock", and motivating me to take a quick peek at what I'm supposed to be working on, FF would have deleted all of my planned chapters. So, thanks so much for reading/reviewing my past stories, thanks for adding them/me to your favorites/alerts, and I hope this and future chapters provide some sort of modest reward for all of my dear, dear readers :)_

_Beta'd by the wonderful **maven13** and **SamiWami**._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Message for You, Sir<strong>

When they reached DI Shipton's apartment complex, the Doctor couldn't detect anything particularly unusual from the outside. It was a whitish, concrete sort of a thing with fairly uniform, rectangular windows. The neighborhod was certainly upscale, but this particular building wouldn't seem out of place - to him, at least - if it were in the same block as Rose's old home on the Powell Estate.

They followed the walk in under the carport where the Doctor chivalrously opened the door to the lobby and followed Rose inside.

"The newlyweds!" The cheerfully-shrieked greeting (which stopped both of them in their tracks) had issued from a middle-aged woman behind the office window.

The Doctor's first impression was that she must be Jackie Tyler's older, Irish sister - which made absolutely no sense, of course, considering any number of factors, not least of which was their timeline. A second glance confirmed they actually looked close to nothing alike, and he realized it must only have been the volume of her voice that had caused his momentary confusion.

He looked carefully around, making sure she was addressing them, and caught Rose doing the same. Newlyweds, are we? he thought. Then, thinking quickly as always, the Doctor took Rose's left hand and plunged his own into his overcoat pocket. "Mrs. Phelen!" he greeted enthusiastically, having taken note of the nameplate on the front desk behind which the woman was now standing.

"I told ya, it's Dana," the woman demurred as they walked further in. "I'm not yet a grandma; don't need young folks such as yerselves to go an' make me feel older than I am."

The Doctor thought there was an expectation of understanding beneath her words, but he was completely at a loss. As the Doctor and Rose laughed politely along with her, he caught Rose's eye. She obviously recognized the situation for what it was, and expertly began fishing for information. "So, how've you been?" Rose asked.

"Oh, fine, fine. Sittin' by the phone day an' night, but that's me. But you, two!" She clapped her hands and then held out her arms as if to give them a hug from across the remainder of the lobby. "So good to have ya back! How was the honeymoon?"

On indefinite hold, the Doctor thought, still surreptitiously feeling around in his coat pocket. "Great," he and Rose answered together.

"It's a far sight chillier here, I'll bet," the woman laughed.

Rose shrugged. "I'm managin' to keep warm," she said, tugging on the Doctor's suit jacket with her free hand and giving him a smile.

He really didn't think he'd mind if she wanted to keep it. He'd certainly have to empty the pockets first, but he was quite enjoying the dress-and-jacket look on her.

"Well, yer honeymoon suite's all finished up, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know," Dana enthused.

"Our suite?" the Doctor asked, surprised. It was one thing to be recognized by someone they hadn't met yet. It was quite another to discover waiting accommodations of their own when they were actually trying to visit someone else. They were, however, caught up in multiple circular paradoxes. He should probably have expected it.

"Just this morning, he gave me the keys," she explained. She reached down behind the desk, then produced said keys, jangling on a tagged chain.

"So he did," the Doctor observed. DI Shipton was the "he", he presumed.

Or hoped.

He silently congratulated himself on finally finding the item he was digging for in his pocket, and reached his now-bedecked left hand out to retrieve the keys. "That was nice of him," he said, noting the tag labeled "Mr. & Mrs. J. Smith". It just wasn't fair how fate had to keep throwing his proposal plans back in his face with yet another pretend-to-be-married-to-Rose scenario. Still, at least he was somewhat prepared.

* * *

><p>Rose felt her face heat up as the Doctor showed her the tag on their keys. Why couldn't fate just let her forget about John Smith and his proposal? Up until that moment, Rose had been fully prepared to play along, just like she had countless times before, when people had mistaken them for (or they'd been undercover as) a couple.<p>

"'Nice' is the right word, there," Dana answered the Doctor, rather dreamily, regaining Rose's attention. "Oh, how I'll miss havin' him in every day. Always been one for a lovely accent, me. Course," she added, "I won't miss the noise an' the work crews. Gave us a chance to do some small renovations of our own, but no one ever likes the hassle, do they?"

"Guess not," Rose vaguely sort of noncommitally agreed. "Just have to make it worth the trouble, I s'pose," she consoled. She was more interested in the mysterious, dashing key-leaver than whatever renovations had been going on. "When did Billy leave?" she asked searchingly.

She was holding her breath (and thought the Doctor might actually have been as well) in the split second it took Dana to reply to her guess. "Oh, 'round about half ten, I'd say," she said.

Rose squeezed the Doctor's hand and smiled at him. It had been him. DI Billy Shipton really had been here, a month ahead of them.

The Doctor grinned back at her. "Didn't happen to leave us a message, did he?" he asked.

"What was it, what was it?" Dana asked herself, looking off to the corner of the ceiling. "That's right!" She snapped her fingers triumphantly. "Just that if you want any changes to the decor, he'll be by in about a week."

A week, Rose thought. Right when the Doctor expected Billy to first arrive. So... if he was there before them, but knew them, and expected to see them again in a week when the Doctor guessed he would first be sent back... they should all be meeting for the first time, then. It seemed to make a timey-wimey sort of sense.

"Well, then," the Doctor said, patting their joined hands with his free one, "If there's nothing else, we should take our leave of you, Dana," he nodded to the woman, "and I'll escort my wife to our chambers."

At the mention of their chambers, Rose felt another blush threataning, but Dana interrupted yet again. "Rose, dearie, what happened to your ring?" she asked, staring at their clasped hands.

"Wha-" Rose stammered, looking properly at the Doctor's hand. At some point since they had entered the lobby, the Doctor had managed to slip a wedding band onto his ring finger. How many of those did he have floating around, she wondered. Or could it be the same one he'd been wearing before? Might he have kept it with him for, dare she think it, sentimental reasons?

"Lost it on the honeymoon, I'm afraid," the Doctor covered for her in her silence. "We were dancing, actually, on our ship - our cruise ship - and it fell through the deck."

Which was actually partly true, Rose noted, remembering that evening after they had left Martha. Granted, it wasn't actually her wedding ring, and the TARDIS is much more than a simple ship, and they weren't actually on their honeymoon, and she would hardly have called it dancing...

"I offered to get her another," he went on. That was also true of that evening, Rose recalled. Maybe his really was the same ring. "But we're going to wait and see if the maintenance crews can find it, first."

Rose was amazed at how easily the tale fell from his lips. He looked imploringly at her and she shook herself. "Yeah," she said, blinking at him, then turning to Dana. "Yeah, didn't wanna replace it so soon if there was a chance we could get it back," she told the woman, nodding at the Doctor. That settled, regardless of how unsettled her emotions might be, Rose waved her goodbye. "Nice to see you again," she said, as she walked with the Doctor towards the hallway leading to their flat.

* * *

><p>Rose had been right on the mark with her theory about Billy's arrival, the Doctor thought. Her smile had matched his own at this confirmation of the TARDIS' involvement. It didn't quite explain why the flat was in their name, now, but listed as being in Billy's name in Sally Sparrow's research... but that was a mere technicality.<p>

The Doctor could just make out a sighed "young love" from Dana as they turned down the corridor leading to their ground-floor flat. "Seems you were right about Billy," he congratulated Rose as they walked down the hallway.

"Hope so," she replied distractedly.

"I thought you'd be thrilled," the Doctor said, surprised. He gave her hand a squeeze. "It all works out!" he explained. "The Angels send Billy back in a week, we meet him and fix everything and get the TARDIS back, then bring him back to a month earlier for... redecorating? Well, we'll figure out what for. I'll take another look at the notes and figure it out. Or, maybe there'll be more clues in the flat."

Rose bit her lip before she replied. "Yeah, but that's just it," she said. "If we go to the trouble of buying a flat, what does that say about how long we'll be stuck here?" she asked, looking cautiously at him.

"Ah." That was about the sum total of what he had to say to that. The fact that Billy would be traveling back in time, then disappearing just before they had arrived did seem to indicate they would be reunited with the TARDIS. But how long would it take? And would that really be how it plays out? Or would there be some other time-traveling intervention? And how long would it take? Had he asked himself that already?

Something of his concern must have shown on his face. "I'm sorry," Rose offered, squeezing his hand right back. "You're right. We should just take a look inside and figure it out. And it'll be alright, even if it does take a while," she said. "We're still together. And we _will_ get the TARDIS back," she said confidently. "Just, in the meantime, imagine this flat is the TARDIS. Stuck somehow for a while, disguised as a flat."

"Disguised, right, I like that," the Doctor agreed, smiling a little at the notion.

"Only, you can't talk to her," Rose observed, then corrected herself. "Well, you can," she said with a grin. "She just can't answer back."

"Funny," the Doctor told her, dryly.

"And she's prob'ly got lots of doors and windows. Maybe carpets and stuff," she said with a fake shudder, making him smile more fully.

"So," the Doctor said, gesturing her towards the door, "shall we have a look at our TARDIS-in-disguise-that-isn't-going-anywhere-anyplace-soon?"

"Let's," Rose nodded.

As the Doctor brought the keys out to unlock the door, he had a brief internal debate over whether to attempt carrying her over the threshold. He had just decided to save it for a more legitimate occasion when he opened the door wide and looked inside.

They both stopped still, slack-jawed in shock at what lay within.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_See! I told you this series wasn't dead!_

_And yes, I know. I've already gotten complaints about the cliffhanger._

_Before the speculation begins, no, Jackie and Dana are NOT related. In any way. It's just that when I was picturing the sort of exuberant greeting I wanted from the manager, Jackie popped into my head. So I popped her into the Doctor's._

_I hope to be working more regularly on this, again. Finally. Once more. No promises. __See my profile for up-to-date why-I-might-not-have-updated information._


	6. On the Inside

_Hi! I'm back, apologizing once again for the long break between updates. Thanks for all the prayers and well-wishes; they were very much needed and appreciated._

_And yeah, I'll understand if you need to go back and re-read the last chapter (or chapters, or the whole story... or series) to get ready for this one. But if you're enjoying it, that's just a chance for more fun, right? I hope?_

_Beta'd by **SamiWami**. Collaborated on with **Jonn**** Wolfe**_ _(note, that's a double "N" there, not "John")._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 - ...On the Inside<strong>

Any expectations of similarities to the Powell Estate vanished from the Doctor's mind as he looked through the doorway - unless, of course, he allowed for the few occasions on which he had parked the TARDIS inside Jackie's flat.

"Is this -" Rose began. "This isn't - it can't be - I mean, it's not, right?"

"No... it's not," the Doctor answered her as they both stepped slowly inside. "It's not the TARDIS, but it certainly does bear a striking resemblance, doesn't it?"

Rose just gave a light laugh as she looked around, wide-eyed.

It hadn't lasted long, but when he had first opened the door the Doctor's mind had actually reached out, expecting the TARDIS' presence.

However, along with noting the distinct lack of sentience, he'd also quickly processed the fact that what had at first appeared to be the console was actually some kind of mid-room fireplace with a greenish, translucent hood. Instead of a captain's chair, it was encircled by three, comfy-looking couches and little coffee tables on a slightly raised platform. The chimney duct was surrounded by lit, colored-glass hangings that recalled the Time Rotor. Curving, open staircases climbed along either wall from the doorway up to the next level, but the upstairs rooms flanked the main living space with its three-storey vaulted ceiling, leaving all three levels of windows on the opposite wall free to pour light into the main room. The window shutters and various lights and mirrors around the room were all designed to mimic the roundels that covered the console room's walls. While the flat was obviously of squarish construction, decorative screens had been arranged along the curve of the staircases to cut off corners and enhance the impression of roundness.

Rose had climbed to the fireplace, and was now circling it, gazing up at the "rotor". "She must have made quite an impression," she observed.

"On Billy, you mean?" the Doctor asked, stepping up to join her. "Yes, I'd say this rules out at least the Vortex Manipulator theory, if not a few others I've come up with." It also ruled out a ride from any of his own incarnations prior to Nine. The decor was most definitely inspired by the TARDIS in her current coral configuration.

Rose met him, taking his hands. "No carpet," she said, bouncing slightly on her toes and grinning up at him.

He made a show of looking around, although he had already catalogued every visible detail. "Doors and windows: nicely concealed," he said, nodding his approval. He glanced down at the couch they were standing beside. "Might even take a few pointers for when we get back to the old Girl." With a quick twist and a surprised shriek from Rose, he dropped, bouncing, onto said couch with Rose on his lap. They still had just over eleven and a quarter days left before he could propose, but that didn't mean he had to keep his distance from her. And the couches looked much less awkward than the Captain's chair for the various pre-proposal activities he had in mind.

However, Rose inexplicably pushed back from him after but a single, too-brief kiss. "Shouldn't we take a better look 'round?" she giggled.

"Don't see why," he countered, gently pulling her back. "Comfy couch," he explained against her lips.

She hummed her ascent, then gave a startled gasp as he laid her back on the cushions - purely to demonstrate his observation of the couch's comfiness. He grinned internally as she tugged on his hair, kissing him more deeply. But then she went and pulled away again. "It's very comfy," she whispered, "but I still think we should finish investigatin'," she insisted, biting her lip.

"I _am_ investigating," the Doctor whined while he nuzzled his way down her neck to the collar of her dress.

Rose gave a laugh that quickly trailed off into a very pleased sounding sigh as he explored his new discovery. "It's jus," she attempted breathily after a few moments, "there could be clu- ah..." She distractedly cut off, gently scraping his neck and scalp.

Quite pleased at his ability to capture her attention, the Doctor attempted to return to her lips.

"Clues!" Rose announced suddenly, causing the Doctor to jump back, propped up on his arms above her. She bit her lip sheepishly, then continued, "There might be clues around here or upstairs, an' maybe things we need to be lookin' out for right off."

The Doctor sighed, letting himself collapse enough to rest their foreheads together. "Why does that have to make such sense?" he asked, frustrated by how much he actually agreed with her thought process.

She gave him a dazzling grin as he capitulated, as well as a nice, deep - but entirely non-escalatable - kiss. "Race ya up the stairs?"

Knowing full well that she'd never beat him to the top, he at least had the good grace to help her to her feet, first.

* * *

><p>Rose was only two-thirds of the way up the right-hand staircase when the Doctor reached the landing and darted down the hall to the left. Deciding to split up and cover more ground, and hopefully delay his victory speech, Rose took the right turn at the top and opened the first door she came to. It was a spacious, full bathroom, with a second door leading to the adjacent room. The ceiling was lower than she'd expected from the construction of the main room, but still at least as high as any regular flat's. A quick look around revealed some towels, and to her immense surprise and relief, her own toothbrush and other toiletries.<p>

"YES!" she exclaimed, closing the curtain of the combined bathtub/shower. "Maybe I won't be at Henrik's for long, after all," she mused. If she'd somehow managed to stock the flat with her personal items, surely she and the Doctor would have provided for their financial -

She suddenly noticed the Doctor's toothbrush next to hers. Huh. Opening the mirror over the sink, she discovered his razor. So, sharing a bath. Maybe there's only the one? Or...

Rose moved hesitantly towards the door to what she presumed to be the bedroom. Naw. They wouldn't be sharing. Would they be? How much could things have changed between them during their time here? And even if anything had, would their future selves go so far as to set their past selves up as roommates?

The bedroom was closer to what she had expected, with its two-storey ceiling. Glancing back, she realized the low bathroom ceiling made room for a kind of a loft in the bedroom, but she didn't see any furnishings up there.

She couldn't be sure if it was disappointment or relief that she felt as she looked more closely around the room. There were more of her things out on top of the dresser, but none of the Doctor's. The bed was a queen, but so was her own bed on the TARDIS. She braced herself before she opened the closet, and then frowned at what she found - or rather, didn't find - inside.

It was empty.

"Now, come on," she complained aloud, thougts of bunking with the Doctor temporarily pushed to the back of her mind. "Nothin'? Not a dress, or a jacket, or anythin'?"

She checked the dresser drawers, but all that turned up were some underthings and one sleep shirt. "At least there's that," she allowed. Why go to the trouble of leaving these things here, but not anything else? She decided it had to be the Doctor's fault, and he must have spun some line about paradoxes or the like. Scowling at the nearly bare dresser, she noticed a note stuck to the top of the porcelain candy dish that she normally used for earrings back on the TARDIS:

"Bus fare; not for ice lollies!" it read.

"Guess it's Henrik's for me, after all," she sighed, replacing the lid over the handful of coins she found inside.

What appeared to be another note, this one on the bedside table, caught her eye. She pursed her lips when she saw it was addressed "Doctor" but didn't hesitate to pick it up and read it anyway.

"Stop equivocating and putting it off, you twat. Get the ring out of your pocket and ASK THAT GORGEOUS GIRL RIGHT NOW!

~Billy"

Rose's jaw dropped, and her hands seemed to burn as she held the note in front of her. She reread it three more times in the space of only a few of her racing heartbeats. What on earth did it mean? The Doctor already pulled his own "wedding" ring from his pocket. Was it something having to do with that? Because it certainly couldn't mean anything close to what it seemed to _clearly_ mean...

"Rose?" the Doctor called from right outside the open door to the bathroom.

Without conscious thought, Rose stuffed the note into one of the large front pockets of the Doctor's jacket. As she turned to face him, she wondered how many other pockets the jacket had, and what she might find if she went poking around in them.

The Doctor's head poked through the door, promptly followed by the rest of him. "There you are," he said, smiling. It wasn't until he'd closed the distance between them that he even bothered to look around at the room. "This must be yours, then," he observed.

"Yours the other way?" Rose asked, forcing herself to relax as he took her hand.

"No, I expect it's Billy's," he answered. "I don't really need one, do I?" he added.

"No," Rose laughed, hoping her chuckle didn't betray any of her early speculation or habitual daydreaming. "Guess not, 'specially if we're not gonna be here too long."

"Well, I'm starving, and I imagine you probably are, too," the Doctor announced.

Rose's stomach gave an involuntary answering growl. Why did he have to bring up food when they didn't have any cash beyond bus fare?

"And if my nose does not deceive," he said, tapping the side of his nose for emphasis, "we've got at least something of a stocked pantry in this place."

"We do?" Rose asked, surprised. He nodded, and Rose immediately pulled him towards the second bedroom door. "Oh, we'd better," she grumbled. "It'll almost make up for the lack of clothes if it's true."

So focused was she on finding the kitchen, that Rose got absolutely no look at the gobsmacked expression on the Doctor's face at her comment.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_**_Jonn Wolfe_**_ offered me ten quid if I could slip in the note from Billy and have Rose find it first :) Don't know how he's gonna pay up... maybe I'll just have to make him start writing for me.__


	7. Monday, Monday

_This is probably the longest I've ever gone between updates, so thank you to everyone who's had the patience to stick with me on this. I'd love to tell you updates will be coming faster and faster, but I can't promise. I can, however, reiterate that I'm not giving this up! _

_Special thanks to Rose800 for a well-timed kick in the pants to get this updated :)_

_Un-beta'd for the moment, in my giddy haste :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 - Monday, Monday<strong>

_"...Can't trust that day_  
><em>Monday, Monday<br>Sometimes it just turns out that way_  
><em>Oh, Monday morning<br>You gave me no warning  
>Of what was to be..."<em>

Rose let the radio alarm clock continue to play as she climbed out of bed. She found herself recalling how her Mum would often sing the first few lines of that song if the day was mentioned. It was an unexpected bout of nostalgia, but one she was able to get past fairly quickly as she swallowed past the lump in her throat and focused on what this particular Monday would hold in store for her.

"Back to the shop," she told herself, taking down the same white dress of the day before from its hanger. At least tonight, she should be able to have something new from Henrik's to wear.

As she washed in the bathroom, Rose could hear the Doctor bustling around downstairs in the flat, or "Tiny TARDIS", as they'd decided to name it. It didn't have a swimming pool, or a wardrobe room (more's the pity), but it did come stocked with all they had needed for a much appreciated dinner the night before. And from the sound of it, the Doctor was cooking up quite a breakfast, as well - unless he had something completely unrelated to food sizzling in the kitchen. It wouldn't be the first time.

Last night. The weirdest part about it was how normal it had been. Once they had found the food, the Doctor had put the purple folder away and they had just enjoyed a relaxing meal together. They cooked, ate, and cleaned up together, just as if they had been at home on the TARDIS, but without her little extra helps which they realized they had taken for granted (they actually had to leave the pans to soak, something they would never have had to do with the TARDIS' miraculously non-stick cookware).

They hadn't spoken much about their circular paradox. The Doctor had said he would get it sorted out that night, since he wasn't tired at all and had found an entire jar of jelly babies. Rose had agreed to leave him to it, but only if he promised to fill her in completely after work on Monday.

Rose returned to the bedroom, took the lone purse from her closet and scooped up some change for the bus. She debated whether to put her sonic screwdriver in the purse or keep it in her dress pocket - but only briefly. It was too easy to lose a purse, and past experience told her she was far too likely to find trouble. So, down her front it went, tucked into its secret compartment.

She didn't have any coats, so she figured she'd just borrow the Doctor's suit jacket again; she had left it downstairs last night. Her mind went back to the note she'd found from Billy, the one talking about a ring. If there was anything in the jacket he didn't want her to find, the Doctor would have had plenty of time to remove it by now. And if not, maybe she'd just have to warm her hands in the pockets on her way in to work...

Rose shut off the radio just as the distinctive intro to "I Heard It through the Grapevine" was beginning, and headed out into the hallway.

* * *

><p>The Doctor had been sorting, and theorizing, and hypothesizing well into the night, before he decided to take a break and try to salvage his timey-wimey detector. He spread out the components on one of the small tables by the fireplace "console". The casing was completely shattered and mostly still strewn across the street where they had first materialized, the electronics would need to be re-worked (nothing he couldn't do with the sonic), but at least he still had the trans-phasal crystal. It would have been more interesting than he cared to imagine to try and track down a replacement for that. If Rose wasn't too fond of the stereo here in their Tiny TARDIS, he should have most of the components he would need, already. Of course, the detector would probably "ding" instead of "bleep", but he expected he could live with that.<p>

The sun had already risen and The Doctor had just finished his initial schematics and list of needed parts when he heard Rose's alarm from upstairs. He glanced over at his suit jacket, draped across the back of the next couch. He had found Rose's cell phone and laid it out for her, even though it was now not much more than a calculator. There weren't any cellular or wireless signals for it to pick up, here, at least not without some very specific jiggery-pokery, and the clock and calendar were tied to her linear timeline. Whereas Rose had set her alarm to 6:30 on "Monday, Monday" morning, as her radio was declaring, the display on the phone read 14:56 on Sunday 3 June 2007. (Ten-and-a-half days! he reminded himself.)

The parts and schematics were quickly scooped up and deposited in the appropriate pocket of his overcoat, before the Doctor set about cooking up breakfast. It was the least he could do to make up for Rose having to go out and be the bread-winner.

* * *

><p>Rose really loved the TARDIS. She loved, loved, loved the TARDIS. And she hated to admit that the TARDIS had spoiled her. But Rose was keenly aware of each agonizingly slow sweep of the second-hand as she shelved stockings and knickers at Henrik's. The clock read 2:50PM when at long last the manager told her she could pick out whatever she needed against her day's wages before the next shift came on.<p>

The Doctor had said he didn't need anything from the store just yet, so Rose felt free to take care of her own needs first. She found a simple, warm women's trench coat, a pair of slacks, and a comfortable top, all of which she had eyed earlier in the day on the clearance racks and taken the liberty of removing to one of the back rooms. Thankfully, her fashion sense wasn't exactly in line with the priciest items. She was lucky to find this much within her range, but would have to wait to get a new pair of shoes. The white pumps would just have to do. (Thank goodness they were super comfortable).

She changed before leaving, tucking her dress and the Doctor's jacket into a Henrik's shopping bag. She had somehow remained disciplined enough on her way to work to keep from searching the pockets, and kept the bag rolled closed on her lap while she rode the bus back to the flat. Billy's note had probably just been teasing or a misunderstanding, anyway. It was high time she forgot about it. The Doctor was not going to propose. Not tonight, not in ten days, not in her lifetime.

Not unless they were undercover or something, at any rate.

As Rose entered their building, she was greeted by yet another exuberant declaration from Dana Phelen. "It's a girl!" the building manager announced from her place behind the front desk.

Rose figured she wasn't talking about her, so she offered, "Congratulations!"

It was apparently the right thing to say, because Dana launched into the details of her son's daughter's birth. "Two thirty-eight this afternoon, eight pounds, ten ounces, nineteen inches! Ella Kathleen," she informed her.

"That's beautiful," said Rose, happily catching on and remembering something the woman had said yesterday at their first meeting. "So, you're a grandma now, but I don't see you complainin'," she observed.

"Couldn't dream of it," Dana replied. "It's astounding how quickly time passes. Just you wait 'til you and that hubby of yours get started, the little ones'll be having little ones of their own before you know it."

Dana seemed to have a special knack for making Rose blush. "Time's funny," she told her, casually speeding up her walk across the lobby towards the hallway.

* * *

><p>The Doctor looked at the wall with a nod of satisfaction. Behind the screens under the left staircase, a huge, decorative corkboard stretched across the flat's wall. He had put it to good use, covering the board with some papers from Sally Sparrow's folder, but mostly notes of his own, tracing out several complex theoretical timelines between the various bits of information using different colored strings.<p>

Since all of the documents from Ms. Sparrow would be originated by her, the Doctor had decided to destroy anything they didn't need any longer. He was just collecting a small pile of such papers and photographs when he heard the door to the flat open.

"Rose!" he called, hurrying to move back out to the main living area.

"Honey, I'm home!" she answered, as she closed the door behind herself. Rose chuckled as the Doctor swept her up in a crinkly hug. "What's all this?" she asked, indicating the stack of papers he was still holding.

"Destroying the evidence," he told her with a mysterious wink. He pulled her along up to the fireplace. "Nice look," he added, having noted her new outfit. He did like a good, long coat, after all.

"Oh, yeah, I mean, thanks," Rose replied. "And I guess you can have this back, then," she said, pulling his suit jacket free of her bag.

The Doctor tossed it back on the couch and sat down with Rose and his papers. "Thank you, now, would you like to do the honors?" he asked, handing her the first photo.

"Why're we burnin' it?" Rose asked. "I thought this was our 'to-do' list," she said, holding up the Wester Drumlins wallpaper photo.

"I've got notes," he answered, gesturing over at the concealed corkboard. "We just needed to know what it said. We'll paint it on just right, simply because that's how we've done it already for the picture. You'll see."

Rose hmmed, tossing the photo beneath the hood and watching as the flames quickly turned it to ash. She was near enough to the "console" that the firelight was half-emerald, half-unfiltered on her face. "Next?" she asked, surprising the Doctor with her outstretched hand.

He might have allowed himself to become a tiny bit distracted. A tiny bit. He looked back down to the pile. "Ah, won't be needing this anymore," he said, handing her the photo of the Weeping Angel.

"Never gonna look at a statue the same way again," Rose agreed, spinning it into the fire. After a moment, she shrieked, sitting back on the couch and reaching for the Doctor.

"What is it?" he asked, moving to peer into the flames. The photo was already curled and blackened.

"It - I thought," she stammered, "it's just," she swallowed, then took a breath and went on. "It looked like it changed for a second," she told him, tearing her eyes away from the fireplace at last. "First it was just the Angel with its face covered, an' then it was like a monster, all clawin' hands an' fangs." She shook her head and forced out a breath. "I dunno."

"It's ashes, now," the Doctor told her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as he double-checked. For good measure, he retrieved the poker and stirred the remnants into the hottest embers. "Probably a good idea to keep getting rid of this stuff, though," he added.

"'Specially the photos," Rose agreed.

You can't kill a stone, the Doctor thought. What, exactly, had he been harboring in his pocket all this time? "Yes, the photos," he said, shuffling through the stack to make sure there were no more pictures of the Weeping Angels.

* * *

><p>Rose hadn't been able to watch as the Doctor burned the only other Angel picture from the folder. She had made him poke that one to pieces, too, before they dealt with the rest of the papers.<p>

After the burning, the Doctor brought her over to see the corkboard. "You been watchin' 'A Beautiful Mind'?" she asked. He claimed to be able to make sense of the lengths of string he had running between his notes, but she wasn't sure she believed him.

"Here," he huffed, pointing to a stick-figure drawing of what he said was the two of them with the TARDIS. "Follow the yellow line." He traced what was their timeline from London, 2008, to Wester Drumlins, 2007, to London, 1969, to where it intersected with a light blue line, "DI Shipton," he explained. The two were joined by a dark blue line, "the TARDIS", and then looped back to before their original arrival. "Here is where we'll purchase the flat, probably having Billiy fix it up as our 'honeymoon suite", as Ms. Phelen put it."

"And from there?" Rose asked. "We'll just be free to do whatever?"

"Well," and here the Doctor started scratching his neck, "I'd like to see every piece connected, first. There's a lot left that isn't explained, yet. It might never be, but I just have a feeling it should. Be."

Rose looked closely. Sally Sparrow's green line connected to the TARDIS in 2007 and to the dragon hatching in 2008. There was a red line that split away from it, Kathy Wainwright, which connected to the letter from 1987.

"Like this," said the Doctor, seemingly following her silent train of thought. "Katherine Nightingale gets sent back and starts a new life in Hull," he explained, tracing the red string. "But why did she decide, only after so many years, to write to Sally Sparrow? She must have figured things out years before, but it was only here," he said, jabbing his finger where the string changed from red to brown (her grandson), "that she wrote everything out and set up delivery to Wester Drumlins."

"You think maybe we need to pay her a visit?" Rose asked.

"Maybe?" he answered, distractedly pulling at his hair and looking over the entire wall.

Rose looped her arm through his once she'd pulled it down from his head. "Time for a break, yeah?" she urged. "We've got a while before Billy gets here, how's the timey-wimey detector?" she asked.

The Doctor let himself be guided back to the living room. "I'll put it back together in time to find him," he answered, "but first I need to use some of the parts to create a control disk." As they sat down, he continued with a grin, "that'll be tonight's project."

* * *

><p>After dinner, the Doctor let Rose sit up and help him for a while, but he could tell she was pushing her limits as midnight approached. Even he might need to catch a few winks tonight; she must be tired. "I've got this, Rose," he told her gently. Her head was resting very nicely on his shoulder, and he was loathe to see her go, but her eyelids were drooping. "Get some rest," he said. "You've got a big Tuesday, Tuesday ahead of you," he observed, recalling her wakeup song from earlier that day.<p>

"You are ridiculous," she told him, sitting back with a yawn. "I'll see ya in the mornin', then." Rose leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "'Night, Doctor."

"Sleep tight, Rose."

He watched her go, eyes lingering on the upstairs landing until he heard the gentle click of the bedroom door. Brushing his hands clean on his trouser legs, he moved to retrieve his suit jacket. He was thinking of the ring, but instead of reaching into the breast pocket, he dug around in the outside pocket, finally withdrawing a small, folded piece of paper.

With another brief glance towards Rose's bedroom, the Doctor unfolded the note and re-read it. "Message received, Detective Inspector," he said quietly, before slipping Billy's note beneath the fireplace hood.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_Sixties soundtrack: "Monday, Monday" by The Mamas and the Papas, "I Heard It through the Grapevine" by Marvin Gaye_

_And, the thing about the photos is from Eleven's "The Time of the Angels": "That which holds the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel." (My theory is that although Sally Sparrow couldn't let the whole Doctor thing go, she never spent time really staring at her Angel pics. They creeped her out too much.)_

_So? What'd ya think? :)_


	8. Dream a Little Dream of Me

_Surprise! Update! _

_I know I just posted Chapter 7 on the 1st, and this is still un-beta'd, but I'm too excited to wait, now that I've written something :)_

_Okay, for this (short) chapter, it'd be especially helpful if you were familiar with a little Human Nature/Family of Blood AU (03 08AU/03 09AU) I did a while back. Four years ago? Really? Wow. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 - Dream a Little Dream of Me<strong>

_Once the school had been evacuated, Rose's one thought was to get John to the TARDIS. She led him through the woods, just skirting the school grounds, around to the western side. If the road was clear when they got to it, they might be able to run. If not, it would mean they'd have to stick to the woods for the whole three miles to where the TARDIS was hidden. Not too bad for her, but John had left his coat at the dance and she'd already seen him starting to shiver. That, and they'd be dodging body-snatching aliens and living scarecrows all the way._

_A regular walk in the park, she thought to herself with a good dose of false cheer._

_However, her spirits lifted considerably when they did reach the road and found it unguarded, no Family in sight. "Just a few minutes' run, 'kay, John?" Rose asked, grasping his hand firmly._

_He nodded mutely and let her set the pace._

_By the time they neared the TARDIS, John wasn't showing any signs of cold, and Rose was wishing she were the one without a coat. Rose threw open the door to the shed, and led John inside. He stopped still at the threshold. Rose looked up at him and was surprised to see him wide-eyed and pale. He was staring at the TARDIS. "You recognize her, don't you?" she asked softly, hoping, praying that she was right._

_He shook his head weakly. "Never seen it in my life," he denied but Rose could see he was lying._

_This might just work, Rose thought, her faint hope quickly growing into excitement. If she could break through John Smith, maybe enough of the Doctor would be there to help her figure this out, even without the fob watch. "That's the TARDIS," Rose said, watching closely for his reaction to the name. "The Doctor's blue box? His magic carpet?" she prompted, mentally hacking away at his facade. She fished out her key and tugged him out of his stupor to bring him onboard the ship. "You drew her; you wrote about her in your journal."_

_Once he was standing in the console room, Rose saw tears form in his eyes. "I... I remember," he said, hardly above a whisper. "The TARDIS." He stepped closer to the console, putting his hand out to test the controls. "The TARDIS!" he exclaimed, quickly circling the console. "And I - I'm the Doctor," he said, putting his hand to his chest as if proudly introducing himself to himself._

_"Yes, you are!" Rose happily affirmed._

_"And you," he said, stepping towards her and taking her hands in his. "You're human, aren't you?"_

_She nodded with a half-laugh, half-scoff. Oh, she loved this madman._

_"Not really a surprise, I suppose," the Doctor said, mostly to himself. "Gone the same way as Susan, I see. Although," he put his hand to her cheek, "I certainly can't see any reason to complain."_

_"Thanks?" Rose replied, trying to follow._

_"So," the Doctor continued, returning to the console and activating the scanner. "It appears we have some hostile individuals to which we must attend."_

_Rose blinked. "The Family, yeah," she confirmed, following to stand beside him._

_"How long have we been together, then?" The Doctor asked._

_"Huh?" she asked, eloquently. Okay, she can do non sequiturs. "You don't - " remember? she was going to ask. Rose looked at him, realizing, of course, he wasn't all back, yet. That's why he was speaking so strangely. "Um, about, maybe three years?"_

_"And how long have we been married?"_

_Rose opened her mouth without sound._

_"My dear girl, are you alright?" he asked._

_She shook herself. "Uh, yeah, fine, we're not. We're not married. Not anythin'. Just friends."_

_"Now, I am quite aware I've suffered a significant shock, and have yet to recover a good portion of my memory," he lectured. "However, kindly refrain from attempted deception." He moved away from the console to look her in the eyes. "I am fully aware of your involvement in recent events here at the school, and can easily discern, for my part, between that which was the influence of the TARDIS and that which was motivated by my factual relationship to you. It's not unheard of for Time Lords and humans to wed, it's simply taboo - which is a concept to which I have, for some time, been rather indifferent."_

_He really thought they were married? That they_ could_ be married? Was he, like, probing her mind? Her deepest, darkest, secret fantasies or something? What kind of crazy dream was this? _

_Oh._

_Rose pinched her hand -_

* * *

><p>Rose's eyes opened to her darkened bedroom in the Tiny TARDIS.<p>

She sat up, recalling the details. "Crazy dream," she told herself. Her heart was still racing, remembering how certain the Doctor had been that they must have been married. "Crazy," she repeated, sliding out of bed, deciding she really needed a drink of water.

The lights were still on in the living room, and Rose could see from up on the landing that the Doctor had fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by the bits of his holographic control disk recorder. She had donated her super-phone to that project; he had better not lose any pieces of it in the cushions, she thought not unkindly, smiling at the picture he made.

Once she had descended the stairs and gotten her water, she stopped to check on him. He seemed to be having a rather vivid dream of his own, although nothing like one of his nightmares. Rose carefully took the tools and components from him and laid them on the nearest table. She was about to leave him to his dream when he said something. She had to check that his eyes were still closed to make sure he hadn't actually awoken.

His eyes were firmly closed, but he took a deep breath and said more clearly, "Mary."

Rose's eyebrows climbed, wondering who he was thinking of.

Another deep, sleepy breath, and he amended, "Rosemary."

Alright, the litany of women's names continued, albeit a little closer to her own, this time.

"Rosemary me," he sighed, as he turned in his sleep towards the back of the couch.

She froze. Rosemary me? Or...

Rose, marry me.

That's - that was how John Smith had proposed to her.

Could he? Was he dreaming of their time in 1913, as well?

She clearly recalled her hemming and hawing reply to the proposal, wishing that it was really him, dreading that he might remember when he did become himself again. There was one word she had wished to be able to tell him. Now, she leaned over to whisper it to her sleeping Doctor. "Yes."

She pulled back quickly when he opened his eyes and shifted to look at her.

"Hi! You fell asleep," she explained. "I was thirsty." She held up her half-full glass as evidence.

"Rose, you alright?" he asked blearily, although as he sat up his face quickly cleared.

"Fine. Totally fine," she answered, standing to give him some space. "Just surprised to find you asleep -"

"I do, occasionally sleep," he explained, matter-of-factly.

"Of course you do, and I was just making sure you were okay, 'cause you looked kinda awkward sprawled out on the couch, but that's fine, it's a comfy couch, after all." Rose was surprised, herself, at the uncharacteristic flow of words, and she knew her cheeks were on the way to flaming red. Still, something made her mouth keep running, anyway. "If it's not, though, you could get some rest upstairs," she offered, and just to dispel any convenient illusion that she might be sensibly suggesting Billy's room, "I've got a big enough bed up there. G'night."

She nearly ran from the room, taking the steps two at a time and diving into said bed with the covers firmly tucked under her chin.

"Crazy, stupid dreams," she chastised herself.

She didn't have any more dreams that night (or morning, since it was already 3:26AM), but she didn't get much sleep, either.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_My thoughts on the dreams summed up in two, potential-laden words: telepathic bleed-over._

_Sixties soundtrack: chapter title, "Dream a Little Dream of Me" by The Mamas and the Papas (again)._


	9. Tempus Fugit, sed Non Satis

_My most sincere thanks to all of my reviewers, but especially those whose remarkable restraint allowed them to say more than, "Glad you updated; update soon!" Those reviews are great, too; good to know you're liking it; but if you really want to help things along, feel free to let me know what you specifically enjoyed, make suggestions, or just tell me what's still got you stumped ;)_

_Happy belated birthday, **The Hearts Of The Tardis**._

_Long chapter here, probably a shorter one to follow presently._

_Beta'd by **Faith-o-saurus**._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9 - Tempus Fugit, sed Non Satis<strong>

It seemed the Doctor, at least, had gotten plenty of sleep, since Rose found him already laying out breakfast when she came back downstairs on Tuesday morning proper. He held her chair for her as she seated herself at the table, but, she noted, had no compunctions about helping himself to the marmalade and toast first. Rose grinned as she took a sip of her coffee, happily forgetting about the dreams of the night before. Their current domesticity was just about perfect, minus a very important time-and-space machine. No need whatsoever for that annoyingly human marriage stuff.

She nudged his knee with her own just before he set to work on his next slice. "Whatcha got planned for today, then?" She asked. "The disk thingee done, yet?"

"Nope, not yet," he answered. "Might need to forage a bit more for parts; should be done tomorrow," he told her. "I was thinking of doing some scouting along with my foraging, though. Thought we could do some sightseeing?"

"Where at?" Rose asked. "Just here in London?"

"BBC Television Centre," he specified. "Meet you at Henriks?"

"Yeah, three o'clock," she told him. "That where you wanna make the Easter egg?"

"Seems a likely candidate. Just need a little reconnaissance, first."

With that set, Rose headed off to work. She found herself getting more into the mindless routine of things and therefore better able to really observe the customers and her coworkers. It was actually becoming fairly entertaining (if occasionally frustrating) to note the vast difference in fashions and attitudes that were only decades removed from her own time.

Still, it was a relief to see the end of her shift arrive. She picked out just a single shirt against her earnings, hoping to get some nice shoes tomorrow or the next day.

The Doctor met her as promised, and together they made the bus/underground journey over to Television Centre. They were able to join and then promptly slip away from a tour group easily enough. Security wouldn't be an issue, the Doctor quickly determined, and they were able to locate precisely which studio they would need for their recording: colour cameras, check; Autocue, check; video recording facilities, check.

"Put this on the list of things to do after the detective inspector arrives," the Doctor observed. The video recording actually took place in the basement "hub" of the building.

"And I guess he'll be the one actually recording it, then?" Rose asked as they reemerged to join a departing tour group. "Seein' as how we're both on the transcript?"

"Shouldn't be any problem with that," the Doctor replied. "The only thing he'll need to keep secret from Sally Sparrow is how I get the folder," he said, patting his coat pocket, even though Rose knew most of the folder's contents were either pinned to their wall or already burnt. "She only realized that when we met," he explained. "But there shouldn't be any harm in Billy hearing the recording. He'll be the one putting the Easter egg onto the DVD's, after all."

"That," Rose acknowledged, "and we sort of owe him as much as we can explain, since we'll be leavin' him to start a whole new life, here."

"True," he agreed.

They took the tube back toward Hyde Park. However, since it was still rather early and Rose now had a warm overcoat of her own, they opted to walk through the park past Kensington Palace. It was a nice stroll, with a hefty dose of reminiscing once they came upon the Queen Victoria Statue.

Dana only had wistful looks - rather than embarrassing conversation - for the two of them when they returned to their building. Rose wondered whether the personal stuff was saved just for her, or if the Doctor got his share, too, when he was on his own.

Back at the Tiny TARDIS, Rose cooked up dinner while the Doctor immediately dove back into his tinkering. He emerged only long enough to eat, and was still hard at work when Rose called it a night.

She made sure to bring a glass and pitcher upstairs, so as to avoid any early morning water runs.

Rose didn't realize just how tired she was until she saw her bed. She made it through her ablutions by sheer force of will, before collapsing on top of the covers. It was only after half an hour that she roused herself enough to properly cocoon herself beneath the blankets.

* * *

><p>After working all night and into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, the Doctor still hadn't gotten the control disk recorder right, and it was truly starting annoying him. He had cannibalized Rose's phone as well as his timey-wimey detector, but it seemed he would need to do some covert acquisition out in town if he were going to achieve a truly functional control disk. The hologram wasn't the problem; he'd already encoded a message that would be recognized and displayed by the TARDIS as soon as the disk passed the front doors. The sticking point was recording both the timespace coordinates and a remote activation sequence, all of which needed to be read and actuated through the console-mounted disk player.

The Doctor went back to paper, adding the recorder components to his list for the timey-wimey detector. Several of the simpler items should be available at Henriks; he could ask Rose to buy them with her salary. The rest would be more than she could afford in months, anyway. He would just have to do some creative borrowing. He might even have to stop by UNIT, if it already existed... maybe, tomorrow. But only if he really had to.

Looking over his schematics, the Doctor resigned himself to having made as much progress as he could at the moment. Several of the components he still needed were filled in with what he _would_ have used, were he still on the TARDIS. He'd have to improvise once he saw what was available here and now in London.

His pencil still restless in his hand, and the sun not yet having made an appearance, the Doctor retrieved his overcoat and searched out his journal. He hadn't allowed himself the luxury since they had arrived in '69, but he felt he'd honestly done all the work he could right now, and deserved a little self-indulgence. He flipped to a blank page in the Journal of Possibilities, as John Smith had named it. The previous few pages all bore competing ideas for when and where the Doctor had considered taking Rose for his proposal. However, with the day rapidly approaching, and his efforts to reclaim the TARDIS being unexpectedly thwarted, he now reluctantly admitted that the "when" may already be decided for him, and the "where" restricted to her home planet (albeit his favorite) of Earth.

Several small, rough sketches made their appearance over the page, ranging from seashores, to forests, to man-made monuments, to fancy restaurants; even to the Tiny TARDIS itself. In some he and Rose danced; in others, he was kneeling, holding out the ring; in another, he was simply holding the ring out while tapping her shoulder for her to turn around. That one made him chuckle, but he wasn't sure it was the best option. Best to floor her with his (near-) complete submission to her earthly conventions, he thought. The restaurant scenario seemed the best, as it wouldn't require arranging for travel, but he'd still need to consider finances...

Time had gotten away from him, he realized, as he heard Rose's alarm sound. He didn't recognize the song that morning, but he could distinctly make out Rose's laughter after a few moments. He packed away the journal quickly, making a mental note to ask her about it when she came downstairs.

* * *

><p>Rose awoke to an upbeat tune from her radio that she couldn't immediately place in her groggy state, but soon she soon broke into hysterical laughter as the bridge resolved into "I'm the urban spaceman," and a recitation of said spaceman's random qualities. How she had never associated the Doctor with the song she didn't know, but she'd never forget it, now.<p>

She continued humming the song while she dressed, a little spring in her step as she recalled her plan to do something as simple as buy a new pair of shoes. She loved her running pumps, but she was hoping to add something a little flatter and more colorful to her wardrobe by the end of today's shift at Henriks.

She was still humming and grinning when she made her way downstairs, and the Doctor immediately noticed, despite working to finish up the breakfast preparations. "What _is_ that song, then?" he asked from his place at the toaster. "It's certainly got you in a good mood."

In answer, she walked into his arms and pulled him into a little dance between the oven and breakfast table.

"I wake up every morning with a smile upon my face," she sang. "My natural exuberance spills out all over the place"

The Doctor smiled at her, but she hadn't gotten to the good part, yet.

"I'm the urban spaceman. I'm intelligent and clean. Know what I mean?" She poked him in the chest to make sure he knew he was the spaceman in question.

His eyebrows climbed as she continued.

"I'm the urban spaceman. As a lover second to none, it's a lot of fun."

His look changed at that, and he suddenly dipped her. "You don't even know the half - no, the hundredth of it," he told her.

Rose felt herself blush at his look, and, emboldened, pulled herself up by the hands she had wrapped behind his neck to kiss him.

He didn't break the kiss as he spun her back to her feet.

But she did, when the smell of burning toast intruded on their moment. With a huff, she fished out her sonic, popped the toast up, and pulled the Doctor's face back around to hers before he could do more than open his mouth.

A situation of which she happily took advantage.

The _Doctor's_ knees seemed to buckle before he straightened and hoisted her onto the kitchen counter.

He used the change in position to move on to her neck, breathily admitting, "I really hate... that I actually need you to... go into work... today."

Rose reveled in the thrill of what she could do to him, even if this was as far as he'd ever take things. "Same here," she admitted, "but I had plans, any - ah - anyhow." He was starting to explore where her replacing her sonic had left an extra blouse button undone. She wasn't complaining.

"I forgot you had this," he murmured, causing her to look down sharply at him in surprise. It dawned on her what he was talking about just as he pulled his face up and realization appeared on his own features. "The, uh, sonic," he clarified, clearing his throat, apparently only then noticing his proximity to certain sensitive areas.

Rose grinned at his awkwardness, and he gave her a mock-indignant look as he smoothed his hands down her back. He leaned back in for her mouth, then, literally taking her breath away - which wasn't at all fair, in her book, since he was the one with the bypass thingy, but darnit, she still didn't have any complaints.

He drew away slowly, then entirely too quickly shifted her back around to the table and left her there while he gathered up the rest of breakfast. "I've only got a few things that I need for you to pick up," he told her, sliding fried eggs onto their plates and taking the crispier (blackened) toast for his own. "Shouldn't be more than you've got coming for today's wages."

Rose steadied herself with the back of her chair, trying to very deliberately play off the high he'd left her on, noticing the impish twinkle in his eyes as he so quickly switched to casual conversation. She nodded as if following his words, but then they sank in and she blinked. "Hang on, you've got a shoppin' list? Today?"

Her tone brought him up short, as he was setting out the coffee mugs. "That alright?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," she admitted, realizing that they did have a mission, "I was just hopin' to get some new... shoes," she admitted, biting her lip.

"What's the matter with those?" he asked, glancing down at her pumps. "You need me to take a look and fix them?"

Rose laughed, knowing that Mister One Pair of Converses wouldn't understand. Still, she explained, "No, they're fine. I just was hopin' for somethin' different. Some variety."

He looked at her very strangely, then, more than male cluelessness should warrant. "You do know," he began slowly, "that they're adjustable, right?"

"Adjustable?" she asked, rather blankly.

He grinned, then, dropping to one knee to slide her left shoe from her foot and taking out his own sonic. "Thirty-fourth century technology," he explained, as the heel morphed away and the entire shoe underwent a shift through every color in the spectrum. When he stopped, it was as flat as a ballet slipper, and bright pink.

Rose's jaw simply dropped, as she watched him gently replace the shoe on her foot.

He hopped to his feet, dusted his hands on his trousers, and pulled her chair out for her. "Adjustable," he repeated proudly. "I'd wondered why you'd bought so many pairs," he mused, taking his own seat next to her at the table.

* * *

><p>The Doctor walked Rose to her bus before heading out on foot himself. Rose had seemed much happier about accepting the shopping list, once he had shown her how to twiddle the settings on her shoes (which were currently TARDIS-blue). She had, at first, berated him for not telling her sooner. However, she ended by happily declaring she'd never need to buy another pair again.<p>

As reluctant as he was to watch her go off to work, he mentally thanked his lucky stars that she had a daily routine to hold to. The Doctor didn't know how he'd otherwise keep his distance for the next eight days. It was all he could do to rattle off that blather about the shopping, rather than continue their snogging at breakfast. And the other night, she had invited him to her bed! He wondered, sometimes, whether she genuinely had no idea what she did to him, or whether she was just trying to make him break first. Either way, he was sticking to his plan. Next Thursday, TARDIS or no TARDIS, they'd hopefully both be much, much happier.

The Doctor's morning passed swiftly and fairly successfully, once he had seen Rose off. Between the Imperial College, the Science Museum, and the psychic paper, he had acquired nearly all of the high-end items on his list for both the recorder and the detector. He would need to revisit the museum after hours for a couple of small tidbits that weren't immediately available, even to an eminent, sciencey, professor-type such as himself (or however the psychic paper had described him). If Rose was up to it, they could head back tonight, even.

He would have gotten back to the Tiny TARDIS before lunchtime if he hadn't become distracted by a few of the restaurants adjacent to his path. In his mind's eye, he was testing each establishment as a possible setting for his proposal to Rose. He even picked up a tourist's guide from a street vendor, hoping to gain some further insight on "romantic" sites in the vicinity. With all of the foot/bus/underground travel they had been doing, the sudden appearance of a limousine or other conveyance might tip Rose off long before the intended moment. Better to stay close to home, he figured, _if_ he could find the right spot.

And the cash. He still needed to address that sticking point. Why, oh, why, with all of the circular paradoxes they had found themselves in, could he not have contrived a well-funded bank account. Even Rose had bus fare -

A bank account.

Yes! No. Yes! Could he? Should he?

The Doctor debated with himself on the way back to the flat. If he correctly recalled, the government had insisted on establishing an account for him, despite his Second self's own insistence that it was by no means either necessary nor desired. But did he want to risk yet another paradox, popping by the Brigadier's office and making himself known, before his Third self had the chance to arrive on the scene and explain his way through the mess that was regeneration? He couldn't risk changing his own history. Not for this.

But for Rose...

He waved to Ms. Phelen in the lobby, paying much less than half a mind to her inquiry and to whatever his response was. He had a date with the corkboard-under-the-stairs.

* * *

><p>Rose found the Doctor working at the corkboard when she arrived back at the Tiny TARDIS. He spared her just a peck on the cheek and a quick glance over the items she'd bought before returning to his notebook. She tried to see whether she could help, but his notes were in Gallifreyan, and he was too engrossed to explain.<p>

He did mention a possible late-night excursion and recommended she grab a snack and some shut-eye.

Rose left the merchandise on the breakfast table along with what looked like the Doctor's own acquisitions, and brought a sandwich up to her room. She figured she might as well use some of her free time for an extra-long shower, although, knowing the Doctor, she'd probably need a couple more after whatever he had planned for that evening.

* * *

><p>The Science Museum was a piece of cake, the Doctor congratulated himself, as he and Rose shared some actual cake after their midnight infiltration. He <em>should<em> be able to complete the control disk that very morning, and possibly even have the timey-wimey detector in working order by the time Rose got back in the afternoon.

Then, he had it all planned out. Come Friday morning, he'd go see the Brigadier. He could pose as a stranded companion of the Doctor's. He could gain the Brigadier's trust and the bank account details, all without revealing anything about changing faces. Then, his Third self would be free to convince the Brig of all those pesky details himself. In the meantime, he'd pick up Rose from Henriks and take her to the bank with her paycheck, and surprise her with the knowledge that she was now free to quit whenever she liked.

The Doctor, with a sly grin at his own cleverness, said goodnight to Rose and sent her off to bed. He'd be getting a start on the recorder, now, he might as well clean up their dessert plates, too.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_The title means: Time Flies, but Not Enough. A certain guest review asked for that, and yes, I've noted the rest of your request, as well :)_

_Stay tuned for: THE BRIGADIER! Who will be written mostly by Jonn Wolfe, since I know next to nothing about Classic Who._

_Sixties soundtrack: "I'm the Urban Spaceman" by the __Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band_

_All of my old betas seem to have moved on or busied themselves with legitimate, real-life nonsense. Anybody else want to take a crack at it?_


	10. Col Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart

_So, apparently the FanFiction server thing just froze, or died, or blanked out for about a day after I posted Chapter 9. Apologies to anyone who tried to review, or PM, or whatever during that timeframe. Hopefully, you were at least able to read the chapter._

_Most of _this_ chapter is the result of **Jonn Wolfe**'s amazingly brilliant reviews and suggestions, not to mention straight-up dialogue. If you don't like it, it's most likely whatever parts I either rearranged or rewrote for fluidity. _

_And, once again, I'll remind you all that "NewDrWhoFan" isn't just a catchy username; I've never seen a whole episode with the Brig in it in my life. I have, however, read a lot of awesome fanfiction that holds him as absolutely indispensable to the Doctor._

_Beta'd by **Johnn Wolfe** and **Faith-o-saurus**._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 - Colonel Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart<strong>

The Colonel politely waited until his superior had hung up the phone before slamming his own handset down on the receiver. Did they have absolutely no concept of what "rapid-reaction" meant? When it came to the potential threats posed by alien entities, waiting for the UN's first contact protocol was simply inadequate. The UK needed to be able to investigate on their own, with the strength of the military at their disposal. There simply wouldn't be time -

He was inconveniently snapped out of his reverie by the ringing of his phone, and surprised to find he had been pacing his office. With a single, deep breath to calm himself, he strode back to his desk, snatched up the handset, and answered with a clipped, "Yes?"

"Ah yes. Hello!" came a cheery voice over the line. "Am I speaking to Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, otherwise known as either Greyhound Leader or Greyhound One?"

He brusquely corrected the caller, "This is _Colonel_ Lethbridge-Stewart. To whom am I speaking?"

"Oh, sorry. Promotion _later_ this year," the man enigmatically replied. "Yes! Good! Well, it's a bit complicated," he continued, undeterred. "I was told to contact you on the off chance I got stranded in the late twentieth century."

"I see... Told by whom?" the Colonel inquired, disbelievingly.

"The Doctor," the caller simply stated.

"I beg your pardon?" he replied, although that would certainly be the only person he knew who would be worried about winding up in the wrong -

"Do I have to repeat myself?" the caller went on, apparently losing patience. "I don't think I have enough change for the phone if this keeps up."

The Colonel cleared his throat, just to let this person know that his own patience had been tested enough already.

"Sorry," the caller offered, "it's just that I'm stuck here 'til the TARDIS gets back, and there's actually, precisely _no_ telling how long that will be."

"Yes, quite," the Colonel allowed, as if completely empathetic. He resisted the urge to inquire as to which doctor, which psychiatric doctor, perhaps, had told him to call. The mention of the TARDIS told him this person was worth seeing, if only to further evaluate as a security risk. "Tell me your name, and where you are. I can have a car sent for you."

"Right... Smith! John Smith," the caller answered with what couldn't possibly be an alias of any sort. "And no need for a car, I'm actually calling from the payphone outside your headquarters. Security wasn't going to let me in, for some reason."

The Colonel closed his eyes. It was too early in the day for this. The man could very well be the Doctor himself, for all their similarities. He briefly wondered whether he had been inadvertently stranded, or purposely abandoned. He couldn't imagine the two getting on very well...

* * *

><p>The Doctor smiled and waved the Brig over when he saw him emerge into the lobby... foyer... place at the front of headquarters. He'd still be the Brig to the Doctor's mind whether the man were a brigadier general or a private, let alone colonel. He made a mental note to try and track the man down further along his timeline so that they could have a decent chat. In the meantime, the Doctor had to stick with his cover story. "John Smith," he offered, holding out his hand.<p>

The Brig shook it, then walked him over to sign him in. "John Smith," the Brig repeated to the corporal on duty, at which the Doctor pulled out the psychic paper as evidence. The Brig merely raised an eyebrow and finished his entry in the log book. "Mr. Smith," he invited, gesturing for the Doctor to walk with him, escorting him further into the building. The Brig made no move to initiate conversation until they were closed within his office. "So, you know the Doctor?" he began.

"Yes, I do," the Doctor told him. "I'm one of his assistants, in fact."

The Brig nodded, appraising him. "Still wearing that ridiculous fur coat of his?" he asked.

The Doctor had mixed emotions at that. He realized, on the surface, how ridiculous the coat had indeed been, but a part of him (the part of his psyche that represented his Second incarnation, to be precise) rebelled at the implication. Still, the Doctor managed, "Even in the hottest summers! Can you believe it?"

The Brig sat behind his desk, and asked, "So, how can I help you, Mr._ Smith_?"

His alias was uncomfortably emphasized, yet the Doctor continued with his request. "I seem to recall, that is, the Doctor told me, that after the Cybermen, you folks were trying to recompense him, even hire him on." The Brig nodded. "There was some mention of a bank account?" the Doctor prodded, at which the Brig narrowed his eyes. The Doctor held up his hands. "I wouldn't be asking, honest," he defended, "except that we don't know how long we'll be stuck here, and the Doctor mentioned it, brought it up himself, 'If any of you ever get stuck on Earth,' he said, 'UNIT should be happy to have you, and set you up quite nicely."

"UNIT?" the Brig asked.

"United Nations - or, Unified - Intelligence Task Force and you haven't actually started that up yet here, have you?" the Doctor realized even while he was answering. That would explain why he was still a colonel...

"No, not 'yet'," the Brig replied, standing to open his filing cabinet. "But, strangely enough, I had just been speaking to a rather short-sighted lieutenant general about something along those lines before you called."

The Doctor mentally reprimanded himself not to let his mouth get ahead of him. "Good luck," a voice that sounded a lot like Rose's seemed to answer.

"As it happens," the Brig continued, sitting back down to open a folder on his desk, "I have the account information on hand." He pulled over a pen and notepad. "How long have you been travelling with the Doctor, then?" he asked while he wrote.

"Oh, probably about three, maybe four years. Hard to keep track of time," the Doctor invented.

"Well, I must say that you're an improvement," the Brig assessed.

"Oh? How so?" asked the Doctor, unsure how to take the comment.

"You seem to be more on the mark," the Brig answered, glancing up briefly before returning to the file. "Despite the hair. That chap from Scotland was a bit flighty."

The Doctor defensively raised a hand to his hair before he could stop himself. Then, the second comment sank in. "Oi! I'll have you know that Jamie was spot on with most of his observations, no matter his style of dress, colloquialisms, or taste in women!"

The Brig put his pen down and sat back. "Well, then there was the young lady -"

"Who loved him!" the Doctor interrupted, his temper simmering if not entirely flaring. "Do you have any idea how ripped apart I was when the Time Lords forced them back into their own timestreams, removing everything they knew about me?!"

The Brig gave him a very pointed look. "Doctor?"

The Doctor replayed his last sentence in his mind. "Uhm... Hello," he greeted with a sheepish wave. He mentally re-reprimanded himself not to let his mouth get ahead of him.

The Brig smiled, and came back around his desk to shake the Doctor's hand properly. "Another face, Doctor? How many have you got, anyway?"

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. How was he supposed to get around this one?

"Don't worry," the Brig chuckled, leaning back on his desk and waving a placating hand. "You're not the first you to come back to see me," he explained. "You were supposed to wipe the memories, so I'm not surprised you don't recall; that is, if you're not from even earlier than the last one."

"Ah. Alright, then." The Doctor still wasn't sure about what he could say -

"He explained about regeneration; was having a bit of a time after his latest, actually. I know I'll need to play dumb when you show up _trying_ to convince me of your identity. However," the Brig went on with a grin, "considering how you were, rather poorly, trying to _conceal_ yours, and as you in no way fit the physical description he gave me, it's probably safe for me to tell you."

With a relieved sigh, the Doctor allowed himself to collapse into the chair behind him. "That's quite a load off my mind," he admitted.

The Brig reached around for his notepad, tearing off the top page and handing it to the Doctor. "Anything else I can do to help?" he asked. "If you did want a government position -"

"Oh, no, no, no," the Doctor cut him off. "Thanks. But no. Won't be doing that again anytime soon."

The Brig nodded. "Meaning you will have, then?"

The Doctor bent his head, cradling it in his free hand. "I should really stop talking."

"I'll try and stop asking," the Brig replied, kindly.

The Doctor looked down at the page he held. "Just an off-hand question, now that this is settled," he said, indicating the account information. "Would you happen to know a good restaurant in town? Something..." he coughed and shrugged nonchalantly, "romantic?"

The Brig grinned, wide-eyed. "Who is she?" he asked, evidently astonished.

The Doctor felt his own answering smile. "Rose Tyler."

The Brig blinked. "_Dame_ Rose Tyler? Of the Powell Estate?"

"Well, um... yes?" he answered, and pulled his hand back from where he had begun scratching his neck. The Doctor hoped beyond hope that Torchwood wasn't about to become involved in their stay.

However, the Brig did not appear to be thinking along those lines. "I see," he said, nodding. "I don't suppose she's ignorant of your... 'nature'?"

"She knows everything, and hasn't run away yet."

"Does she love you?"

The Doctor couldn't help how silly his grin must appear. "Yeah. Who'd'a thunk it?"

"I can tell that you feel the same way, just from the look on your face," the Brig told him, smiling. But his eyes narrowed again. "However, I'm compelled to ask you this: are you serious?"

The Doctor wondered when the Brig had become his father, but pulled out the ring in answer.

"Absolutely certain?" he asked with the air of a man struggling with his own marriage.

The Doctor felt a pang of sympathy for him, but answered, "With everything that I am."

The Brig smiled, picking up his phone. "I'll take care of it. Tonight?" The Doctor shook his head. "What day?"

"Thursday," he supplied.

The Brig nodded, having dialed a number from memory. He made the reservation in John Smith's name while the Doctor gave the ring one last look and tucked it back into his jacket pocket.

"Here you are," the Brig told him, handing him a second slip of paper. "And don't you dare try to pay for any of it. It's covered."

The Doctor stood to accept it and shook his hand once again. "Thank you," he told him.

"Absolutely any time," the Brig told him with a wink.

Something in that look… "You knew who I was all along, didn't you?" the Doctor couldn't help but ask.

The Brig laughed. "Quite."

"What gave me away?" He had to know.

"Oh, your running gob," the Brig answered, "and the fact that you used 'John Smith'. Really, Doctor? Couldn't think up anything different?"

"Ah. Well, in my defense, I've been rather distracted of late," he defended himself.

The Brig smirked, patting the Doctor's shoulder. "I think that's a permanent state of mind with you, Doctor. But, I can see how you would be, given what you'll be doing very shortly."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I can hardly think of anything else. And that's saying something."

The Brig nodded knowingly as he moved to open his office door.

The Doctor knew it was entirely too early to be saying anything, but he was just so grateful that he couldn't help himself. "Oh, and Br- Colonel?" he said, stopping in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"The name you will be looking for is Doris." Simple enough. No need for details.

"Pardon?" the Brig asked.

The Doctor simply grinned. "Just remember the name."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_I was worried this chapter would be too short, but I think it actually ended up a decent length. I promise I'll get to work on the next one anyway, though!_

_Many thanks to **Jonn Wolfe**! The Brig was just going to be an aside, until his suggestions started rolling in :)_

_As for Doris, she's the Brigadier's second wife. _


	11. You Can Take That to the Bank

_It's not the shortest chapter... and, hey! At least it's a quick update :)_

_Beta'd by **Faith-o-saurus**._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 - You Can Take That to the Bank<strong>

"Nice job this week, Rose," her manager told her, handing over her paycheck.

Rose smiled politely. "Thanks," she said, taking the slip.

"We'll see you on Monday," he said, actually bothering to maintain eye contact until he had finished the sentence.

"Have a good weekend," Rose offered, before leaving the office to collect her things.

Rose had purchased just one more pair of slacks before her wages had been totaled up. It left them with enough for groceries, and maybe, Rose thought, even a dinner out somewhere. Billy (she presumed) had stocked the Tiny TARDIS well and it wouldn't take much to replace the perishables, but if the costs of their mission allowed, Rose was hoping to treat the Doctor, even if it were just to chips.

Speaking of the Doctor, he had called earlier that morning, leaving a message to meet him before she either left the shop or cashed her check. It was a good thing he added that last part, because Rose was set to cash it at Henriks' own bank, as had been her custom when she used to work there.

Rose found the Doctor just inside the main entrance to the building. "Hey," she greeted.

The Doctor turned and beamed at her. "Hey, yourself," he greeted. When she moved to hug him, he instead cupped her face and kissed her.

Like really, really kissed her, right there in front of the doors, where folks had to maneuver around the two of them to get into the shop proper.

Rose dropped her purse and bag at her feet in order to wrap her arms around his middle, beneath his trench coat.

Some giggling and a, "See ya, Rosie," partially registered with her, but she figured Anne wouldn't be one to hold a grudge if she didn't bother replying.

Some throat clearing, however, and a tap on the Doctor's shoulder that even she felt, were enough to break the kiss at last. Otherwise ignoring the spoilsport shopper, the Doctor touched his forehead to Rose's. "Missed you. How was your day?" he asked.

Rose licked her lips. "Great, I think," she answered, breathlessly. "It's great, now, that's for sure." He smiled again, and she seriously considered pulling him back down to her, despite their inconvenient location. Instead she asked, "Yours?"

"Goin' alright, I guess," he answered with a shrug, but the grin never left his face. He gave her one more brief kiss before disentangling himself from her and retrieving her bag and purse from the floor.

Rose took the purse, but the Doctor held on to the shopping bag as he offered his arm to escort her from the shop. She thought to herself how completely different this was from the first time she'd met him here (when he'd stayed to blow up the building). Rose wrapped her arms around his left as they passed out onto the pavement. "What've you got planned?" she asked.

"Well, I just thought, being married and all, we might deposit your paycheck into a _joint_ account." He nodded ahead of them, to where a Barclays branch stood across the street.

"Oo-kay," Rose allowed. "Any reason it's not a _joint_ account at Henriks, then?" she inquired.

They stopped at the corner, and she could feel the Doctor almost bouncing on his feet before he turned to answer her. "Because _I've_ already got one over there."

Rose's eyebrows climbed as they stepped out to cross the street. "You gettin' a job after all?" she asked, incredulous. "I thought you still had too much tinkerin' and plannin' to do to work outside of the flat."

"I certainly do, so I'm certainly not," he replied. "However, remember that fiver from '68?" Rose nodded. "Well, that was actually from the seventies, _but_," he held up a finger for emphasis, stopping outside of the bank's doors. "as it turns out, I did actually earn some 'thank you' cash from the government that year, which I didn't want at the time, and which they therefore put away, probably as encouragement for me to stay on the next time I came 'round."

He opened the door for her, and followed her into the bank. "So, we can't actually use whatever's in there, right?" she asked.

"Why's that?" He looked truly puzzled.

"Well," she explained, "you're gonna be coming back next year and you'll be stuck again, and you'll need the money, won't you?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head as he led her over to check in with a clerk. "I was an _unpaid_ scientific advisor for UNIT. At least," he stopped short, rubbing his chin, "I didn't take any money from them. I have no idea whether or not they kept funding my account."

Rose patronizingly patted his arm, but remained internally eager to get back to their carefree (regular-employment-free) life. If in the meantime she didn't need to go back to Henriks, that would certainly be a bonus.

After the Doctor explained to the clerk why they were there, they were led to a partitioned area with a couple of leather chairs in front of a desk.

Rose leaned over to whisper conspiratorially to the Doctor, "At least we're not here to get a mortgage."

He nodded, sitting back in his chair. "Thank you, Tiny TARDIS."

Just then, the banker came around the partition and offered his hand to each of them in turn. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith, welcome to Barclays," he greeted, "and congratulations!" he added as he moved around the desk to his own seat. "I understand we're making yours a joint account, on the occasion of your recent marriage?"

"That's right," the Doctor answered.

The banker nodded. "I have the account information from the clerk," he said, shuffling his papers, "I'll just need your identification, and we can set this right up for you."

"Uh, right," Rose said, looking to the Doctor to pull out the psychic paper.

To her surprise, he produced a couple of passports and laid them on the desk. "Will these do?" he asked.

The man nodded again as he looked through the passports. "Certainly, certainly. Spain? Was that the honeymoon?" he asked, looking back up at Rose and the Doctor. "I don't mean to pry -"

"No, yeah, it was," Rose answered, wondering just where in Spain the Doctor might have had in mind. Barcelona, perhaps? The city, not the planet? "A little warmer than back here," she added, remembering their first meeting with Dana.

The banker looked back down to his papers, filling in the information from the ID's, then passed a form back across the desk for them to sign. The Doctor and Rose each signed where indicated, then the banker took back the page with a smile. "Not too painful, I hope," he said, tucking the papers into a single file and standing.

"Not at all," the Doctor allowed, "but we would like to make a withdrawal along with a deposit."

The banker looked uncomfortable as he sat back down. "A withdrawal," he repeated, opening the folder.

"Anythin' wrong?" Rose asked.

"Well, I'm sorry to say," the banker answered, "all funds, down to the minimum balance, were withdrawn nearly a month ago." He glanced up at them, before returning his gaze to the papers. "Transferred to a William Shipton." He passed the record across the desk. "That is your signature, is it not, Mr. Smith?"

"Ah. Yes, it is," the Doctor answered, tugging on his ear. "I just meant, then -"

"He just meant," Rose cut in, "if there was any interest."

The banker shook his head, "I'm afraid that's calculated quarterly. However, we can certainly accept a deposit," he offered with a smile.

"We'll just do that, right, Dear?" she asked, looking to the Doctor while she laid her paycheck on the desk and signed it over.

"Of course, Dear," he answered with a painfully obviously forced smile as he slumped in his chair.

Rose didn't have it in her to tease him about the turn of events. He seemed at least ten times more disappointed than she was at the prospect of her heading back to work on Monday.

* * *

><p>The Doctor was not pleased. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets as he strode out of the bank with Rose on one arm and her shopping bag around the other. After all he'd gone through, contacting the Brigadier, forging their passports, and even actually walking into a bank of all places, there was nothing. And he couldn't even blame another incarnation! It would be <em>this<em> him, even after being stuck in their current situation, that would make the transfer...

"I've got plenty for this week's groceries," Rose offered as they waited for the bus. "And," she added enthusiastically, "You can connect some more dots on the corkboard. We know how Billy renovates the Tiny TARDIS, now."

She bumped his arm with her shoulder, and he made an effort to shake himself out of his slump. "Yes, exactly," he acknowledged. "But until he gets here and gets a look at what's left in his account, that still leaves you working at Henriks," he added with a frown.

"It's not so bad," she said, lightly. "Lunch at the café, an employee discount on whatever fashions aren't too horrendous; I can survive."

The Doctor would have been happy to continue to grouse, but Rose was grinning at him, moving to intercept his line of sight whenever he shuffled. "Alright, I'm sorry," he told her with half a grin of his own. "I wish there had been more for you now, but we'll just stick to the plan." Rose nodded, apparently satisfied, and laid her head against the arm she held. "The control disk is finally finished, and I should have the timey-wimey detector ready by tomorrow," he informed her, just so that she knew she wasn't the only one with a task.

"See?" Rose said, snuggling into his side as he extracted his arm to wrap it around her. "Right on schedule. I can do the shoppin' while you work tomorrow, an' the TARDIS'll be back in no time."

As far as he could tell, she was right, so long as the control disk operated as planned. The programs needed to survive translation through DVD encoding, which could affect the accuracy of the coordinates or even render them completely ineffective. They knew from Sally Sparrow that it would at least work to dematerialize the TARDIS, so that much was encouraging.

And as for the parts of his plan of which Rose was completely unaware, at least he had an acceptable venue lined up for his proposal, thanks to the Brigadier. If the TARDIS was delayed - he had programmed her to arrive at the Tiny TARDIS on Tuesday - at least the proposal wouldn't be.

The Doctor leaned over to press a kiss to Rose's hair just as their bus pulled up. "Thanks," he told her.

She shifted out from under his arm to take his hand and lead him onto the bus. "No problem," she smiled. "Let's go home."

The Doctor managed a true smile at that. He'd never volunteer to live without the TARDIS. But stuck with Rose?

It really wasn't so bad.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>

_I'm rapidly approaching the end of my unexpected free time, so please don't expect updates as frequently as you've been getting them. Still, I've got a whole lot of story in my head that I really, really want to share with you folks :) _


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